Graffiti On A Tuesday Night (p.1)

What a Monday, Almost midnight  What a time, To be traveling in 3D, and putting worlds together  Will I find time to put thoughts and pens together  Wait a minute, give a chance to gather, Enough time to coat these words with collective circling concepts of forever.  Rotating thoughts hit my pad like lyrical Russian roulette... So bring the I some Cannabis, so we can roll that Paper and pure ink, just to bring you this dope shit. Am I running out of words? Or running out of ways? To portray... The very purpose, that defeats me? I mean defines me... Nah... That's like, split entities  Tongues with no saliva. Mother nature bearing no pregnancy, Giving birth to still born sons with no light. Hold tight... Lose sight The Proph brings the emotion, puts his thoughts on suspension like shandilares, and tries to write.. But I wake up...  Into a dream. What's this shit?? I'm dreaming... Crossing dimensions took so much energy... Had my Chemistry implasivley releasing adrenalin.