Got propaedeutic qua prolegomenon
Don't need Theogony or the Pantheon, you need my scholion
I don't roll viridian I roll electrum, only tomentum, No centrum
still fuckin stygian cyprians like it's quotidian
You're just a corrigendum, no fundamentum.
I'm Successor, your cosmogony is momentum, Yeah I send em’, No anti-foundationalism, No sisyphus, prometheus, nemesis, ness-ity is cryptolect so substratum, no neoplatonism, no neopragmatism, no post-structuralism, No perennialism, No Summum bonum. got me strapped like amentum, got my strap on pudendum. No Proclus, Cronus, Meletus, theomacy, I’m Me, No metonymy, No Irony.
I inveigh, Psuedogap, No freeplay
Hecate with the threeway
Feet straight I’m planking
Could be hanging
Can't keep my cuts closed
So I T-pose like I’m Jesus but not specious, No Zeus, No Pseudo-Dionysus, catachresis, I'm ecphonesis, you pure anaclisis, a mimesis, No abyss. No difference.
You repressive,You depressive,
You the mass's mope, I'm mass's hope, I’m mass’s dope, but mass's trope got that mass myope, got the masses to elope with a thought
What’s a thought to a god if a thought is a trick
What’s a trick to a thought if I think that I am God
The word was god, now it is thought
The word was god, now it is thought
The word was god, now it is thought
The word was god, now it is thought
I’ll turn a thought into my body
I’ll use a shotty as a belt
Buck into a bitch make em scatter
Like Calcium, leave it in her bladder
Hit her up so hard on the DL
She gets wet just logging into gmail
Cat call a government official, make a pussy whistle, leave her altricial
Imma make her pussy sigh till I’m in it
Only keep my wrists dry when I’m in it
Make a pussy cry when I'm in it
You want those regular paychecks
I got that regular paid sex
And she ain’t gonna trade it, she ain’t gonna barter, scarper
She ain’t gonna turn it out on me, she ain't Calliope, I ain't Ares.
Not a fissle for I, me, here see? I shoot swizzle my ops spill like you piffle, beam po pose drivel you ride, I sit distal, I Home, No Fide, No Fodor, I Kant, I Hardt, Man I drop with the op art
Gotta wash my clothes with a running start
Can’t wash my clothes with the blood dark
But I gotta washboard on my track marks
Butcher the Garden with that cut cut
Call my drug dealer to collect that cut cut
Crack a clam, put in pearl, no cut fuck
No gut, I'll cut to fuck, I'm he-she she polo, I pull in no endo no, I’m swerve, no curvin though
When you say Indigo children but sound of baseless millenarian, using escapism to escape the trend, that’s self-falsification. conspiracist of self-perception, no expansion just suppression. Hitting on windmills an obsession. You obsessive, you digressive, you guessive, You Ponty, Sartre, Pointing, Ryle Regressive...I finesse it, I crescive, ostensive, I educe but its always pas-de-deux need cachou, nu-wave shoo, who's who is traduce, you're bad shit like il duce, reducing, no deuces,
I'll introduce preliminary questioning abridged to abstruse
So abstrused, so abstrused, so abused so abused, anxiety of influence
You're sordid, sorted sleuths.
landscaping the proofs, weeding out untruths. (kierkagaard)
I’m rubbing out these deep fakes like a facade masseuse.
Ignoring my thoughts like that shit my body
Body my thoughts like I’m nobody
Drag a fake fuck by his dead body
I’ll turn a thought onto my body
I’ll spin that shit right around
Ignoring my thoughts like that shit my body
Body my thoughts like I’m nobody
Drag a fake fuck by his dead body
I’ll turn a thought onto my body
I’ll spin that shit right around
Stay seated, no fitra, no ascetist, no nativist or empiricists
Like Fuck Anaximenes, Fuck Neitzche, Didn't further shit, Fuck Sartre, Fuck Pinker, I’m Lukacs on some Chomsky bitch, Fuck Leibnez, Fuck Bourdeiu, Fuck Bergson, Im him on some Unger shit, Fuck Bertrand, Fuck Jaspers, Fuck that Dewey on Weber shit
Fuck Hexis, No praxis, habitus and some doxa’s shit
Fuck Fichte, Fuck Marx, Fuck herder unless he on that spinozist, Go Camus, Get Heraclitus on a Hegal bitch
Fuck The Real, Fuck Orthopraxy, Fuck The Imaginary,
Nothing precedes, Aboutness something, marsupial space splitting, I am one thing, only me is me
So low spoke inclines, I spoke lines after spoke lines with O3 and OE, no money
Use of comminatory is the story of every lapidary,
Propitiatory to minatory is anything pecuniary.
I spoke lines after spoke lines with O3 and OE, I'm no donee.
You live a life of an OG only through Allegory. Ain't even fucking apophrades
I’ll turn a thought into my body
I’ll turn my body right around
I’ll turn a trade to a barter
I’ll turn a face away from me
I’ll turn a raid into a martyr
I’ll turn a scream to no sound
I’ll turn a burn to a break
I’ll turn a straw into a trach
I’ll turn into a maker, effort, baker, see cake forever
I'll turn a laser
I’ll turn to a ghost
I’ll discern tension from an ache
I’ll turn a shoulder
I’ll turn a fake to the most
I'll turn a thought into my body
Body hold me up like shotty, no orate shoddy, abut uncut, body gestalt
Call it all polysememes, money or reality. Never an episteme, all’s a dream--immutable theme, immanent enthymeme. Self-conception, Do I throw Multistable perception on perception
(Now where's reality?)
or is that just me?