viii. Slug Sprint

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Souki Kismet

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I'm at the crossroads between the pavement and potholes
Where sing the lost souls defacing apostles
Formerly felt I was fending just fine
But disorderly dealt, now I fear I'm at the end of the line
The deep end with no odds on the dead pool I wade
Pray with the eight-ball, fate is my only defense like the Great Wall
But I prolong the slug feast, I'm prudential
With the prologues and sobs I put on with the pencil
These slugs are hungry, rumbling in the ventral
I'll put it bluntly, for money, thugs are mental
They'll slug thee, leave slugs in your torso
Fingers twitching like tryna plead forgiveness in morse code
These poor souls are forsaken by the oro sensation
Brazen, sickle-shaped and foretold
Cp3 or PPD? With innovation, facilitate
Like the Reagan administration with greed's decrees
The futile war, what the f*ck were they really shooting for?
Just another failed project, no wonder low numbers of the old prevailed prospects
The spies, informants, morbid on sight
It's heartfelt when the cartel's going on strike
Concerning pension and 401k, career crooks earn ascension with morals unscathed
In the third dimension, they herding words and sentence some prey
Is it hubris of confidence, wage war and lose it paid for, that shit's incompetent
Save for their opulence, paper force occupants to walk stripped of moccasins
They're traitors with false dominance
The road jagged, feet blistered, and soon toe-tagged
Even if I resist the cold habits, but I've journeyed too far to return and go backwards
I've learned that the path is purged clean and ravaged
The gurney's the vehicle they yearn, mean for passage
It's foreseeable there's a hundred more meaningful pathways
To try to keep our plummet at bay
So I won't summon sad days, road stopped by a fork in the deathly valley

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