it was a storm of razors and rapture, raptors and rainbows, ribbons and rivulets of rancor, it was a hurricane of ichor and intensity, idiocy and ignorance, insidious in ignoble intent, irradiated with rancid rot

have you ever stopped to read between the lines, the words unspoken, the rhymes that inhabit the negative space between thought, the sullen sonnets singing sweet surrender softly, eeking out etchings onto egregious excess

street preachers with bible verses inked onto their pupils, poetry penetrating their pensive stares as they speak of hellfire flowing from salavation, worn out shoes and shining souls selling sultry sins on feathery winged lies