i don't even like make up such hypocrisy, when my lenses are tinted & i'm squinting, at you when you wake up i'm bitten, by that bug again the one where, i fall in love again when you say, come here; come again i'm like nah either i'm all in, or my high subsides here's my mind, on full display HGTV, DIY... i'll explain while i’m high while i fly while my mind's, extended upon, upper echelons unless you're armed, with wit like the ill shit, written on my arm a beautiful mind's mine to be still’s, how i’ve become fulfilled i'm gustavo dudamel my jungle's where Mozart chills, in the Bronx Brooklyn more… meaning exclusively & right before, you’re use to me my pen’s my baton usually, composing symphony’s, the shape of my palm on a lake, musically, turning you, like figure 8’s, into a swan in the morning, we’re naked, preening on my rooster wings acoustically, like glue sticks, we're in sync here i heal, never spilling, what spills, when you’re weak & you weep refilling your drink, after your other drink, then another drink after our glasses clink… mazel tov, then smash’em, like oligarchs; more like molotovs unsuppressing passion’s kinks & instincts i'm smearing the mascara you’re wearing with your head hitting the mirror, hips in the sink fuckin' up how you think