My only problem is death. Fuck heaven, i aint showing no religious respect. Brain damage, therapys the only thing i regret. Talking to me is like a fucking body missing a neck. But, im surprised I ain’t pop off my top off. Life is a bitch and my cocks off the glocks cock. My hands shriveled, my fingers slipped, the walls red. Her life is fucked, she sad now, her son is dead. I told her I’m her worst nightmare. This is hell, you dont ever gotta fight fair. My spirit floats around in the night air. Or in your day dreams, thats how death seems.

- Nightmare by Tyler the Creator

Ickle me, pickle me, tickle me roo. Went for a ride in a flying shoe. “Hooray!” “What fun!” “It’s time we flew!” Said ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too.

Ickle was captain, and pickle was creek. And tickle served coffee and mulligan stew. As higher and higher and higher they flew. Ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too.

Ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too, over the sun and beyond the blue “hold on!” “Stay in!” “I hope we do!” Cried ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too.

Ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too never returned to the world they knew, and nobody knows what’s happened to dear ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too.

ICKLE ME, PICKLE ME, TICKLE ME TOO By Shel Silverstein

You wanna know something sick? You got me sick in paranoia. Rubbing vicks on my imagination. Caught in a daze, fkight of fancy. Articulation, she the air. I want to respirate, or hyperventilate. Shit when i feel the fabrics of her mind, she so reactant. Trampoline infection, uh, plus the backflips. If she don’t like some shit she talk back quick. With skintone tan like Orlando. Magic Johnson was number 32. Chamberlain off the loop. Were an obligated team to win, just shoot through the hoop. If you miss I’d rather rebound. Although I ain’t a rebound. You speak my name in eerie sounds. You my queen, I’m your king now. I like the ring to the tone of the ringtone. Call and answer like I heard 3 phones. Going off equivalent. For her? Chivalry. Too icy, nigga: real jewelry. And experience is a journey above. Whether dead or alive, I exist to survive. Like the group U-N-I, you and I divide. Our chicken and watermelon. Atom bomb? But waste is a larger weapon. This is the faulty present. To borrow essence, is like a formless preference.