I have no idea what I'm doing.

Bust a rhyme, roll in grime, anything to pass the time

The clock flies, I'm opt to try all, not past a crime

It gets weary sitting in a chair 'till the seat's teary

Put buds in the ears dear to me 'till I've lost hearing

Sweat embedded in my head, feels like red-hot searing

I feel dead, just lazing, the other part of me jeering

I fear a disappearance, that of all far and near us

Or they'll leer at us, cuss when we must feed our lust

But snap back to the real world, it's just imagination

The mind lost in a materialization to the virtual nation

No stimulation, just a zombification

Until the brain cells have lost all outside notification

The screen's sometimes a bore, but it's a lord we should

Know has us misunderstood, even if the morning's good

The strength to barge out the Net's harder than morning wood

Takes a chunk out my brain like a fruit's coring could

But it's from the screen to the writing that tempts me

Knowing the trance of dancing through lyrics as an emcee

Hardly see what I'm writing, to me, these lines are rather empty

A pen of non-existent entities with metal fencing

But now I've jotted it down, a verbal mound,

The audio's absent, but there's no lacking to hear the sound

I haven't opened my mouth, but I've still not a doubt:

It's euphoria, ecstasy, to see these words flow out

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