Thing Not to Do on a Wednesday

[HighEngineChief]

Purple stars with oil in their hands,
dripping boils on the dark skinned soil
through the cracks that absorb spoiled plants.
Wanting this, wanting that, just a kiss, something drab,
frumpy lips, cuts and scabs oozing blood ugly laughs so dumb, funny, sad.
Where's the bag? I just want to wear these drugs like a mask.
Is it lust? Does it last? Then it's love, take it back.
All I wanted was a pill in a whiskey filled glass,
snort a pixie dust line, take a wikileak, crash;
I ain't feeling too fine, but the wine ain't bad in this rinky dink shack.
Drink until my every thought sinks into this glass,
pick it up, swing it at the floor, break it and collapse.
I ain't naked, this is trash. Rip my reptile skin off and place it in the bag,
now I'm only wasting time.

How many days do I still have, another Saturn Day, a half?
Will these planets be attached that long? O Lord,
Where in hell did I go wrong?
More for the smores through the graham cracker doors,
into the marshmallow flames in the lands to the north.
If there's love, I ain't found it in the drugs, or the fountain of the young,
or the mountains of my tongue because my lungs keep it cloudy
and it snows every Friday.

Cocaine highway - The road gets slippery.
The ditch looks cozy and your nose starts prickling.
The cold frost digging in (your toes start quivering,
your hope starts dwindling,
you scream for your life) There is no one listening
As cold eyes of truth stare down, stone glistening,
and offer their ichor, that you may drown your differences.
Uppers, I took too many. I'm too far above to help me.
I'm drifting into the Sun, and my wings are already melting.
The Purple Star ever tempting and beckoning
me to blend in with everything,
getting heavier, falling
into the
center of my tongue.

O lord, I don't want to die young!
Thinking of all of the shit that I could have done!
The people I left behind,
the weed I left in the rug, I will never get to smoke.
A needle under my skin, a plug I've yet to choke.
A song I've yet to sing, that still rings in my throat.
The cost of all these dreams, made clear when I awoke
on Wednesday, utterly broke
and blood boiling on the dark skinned soil -
Let it soak

Down to the middle
Of the weak.

[HighEngineChief]

http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...s-The-End-quot
http://rapbattles.com/forum/showthre...Boys-Don-t-Cry

[HighEngineChief]

Bitch I'm hungry. Feed me!

[Emily]

Yeah I'm feeding, and the names Emily lol.

There's a lot fresh and raw when you write HighEngineChief.
You have crafty rhymes and spit them out with a grunt which to me fits these type of pieces.
Some of your wording is really good and the imagery is cool, lots of details helping that.
And I really like your flow which isn't the norm but still flows imo.
I like that you don't clutter your wording up because this structure is so much better.
It makes everything so much easier to read and it also looks heaps better.

'Purple stars with oil in their hands,
dripping boils on the dark skinned soil
through the cracks that absorb spoiled plants.
Wanting this, wanting that, just a kiss, something drab,
frumpy lips, cuts and scabs oozing blood ugly laughs so dumb, funny, sad.'

Cool intro and this flow, I like the ups and downs of it, the zigs and zags melodically, I dig it.

'I ain't feeling too fine, but the wine ain't bad in this rinky dink shack.
Drink until my every thought sinks into this glass,
pick it up, swing it at the floor, break it and collapse'

Yeah see, I think this bit is really good. Especially the 'rinky dink shack'.
Cool wording coupled with cool flow and I'm on cloud nine.

O Lord,
Where in hell did I go wrong?
More for the smores through the graham cracker doors,
into the marshmallow flames in the lands to the north.
If there's love, I ain't found it in the drugs, or the fountain of the young,
or the mountains of my tongue because my lungs keep it cloudy
and it snows every Friday.'

I really like this bit, from the fountain of young to the mountains of tongue
because of lungs and the snows every Friday, love all of the way this was worded.

'Cocaine highway - The road gets slippery.
The ditch looks cozy and your nose starts prickling.
The cold frost digging in (your toes start quivering,
your hope starts dwindling,
you scream for your life) There is no one listening
As cold eyes of truth stare down, stone glistening,'

Awesome rhymes HighEngineChief, and that flow, oh, that flow. I love it.
Even though you're rhyming with one sound, I still don't tire of it.
Your wording is cool so my mind doesn't go anywhere but on your storyline.

'O lord, I don't want to die young!
Thinking of all of the shit that I could have done!
The people I left behind,
the weed I left in the rug, I will never get to smoke.
A needle under my skin, a plug I've yet to choke.
A song I've yet to sing, that still rings in my throat.
The cost of all these dreams, made clear when I awoke
on Wednesday, utterly broke
and blood boiling on the dark skinned soil -
Let it soak

Down to the middle
Of the weak.'

I like this ending, especially the idea of doing all the things you need to do before you kick the bucket,
including smoking the weed that you left in the rug lol classic (cool hiding place)
I noticed that you posted this on a Wednesday, too funny.
I wonder what your Saturday nights are like lol

I love your writing HighEngineChief. I love the way you roll with that flow
and how you pack a punch with your imagery and atmosphere.

Good work, Great read.