Unstoppable force revolting.
Ejection of the thorn injected relieves me.
Everything so perfectly tied together, I am exploding.
Wrestling as I make the drive to understand why
there is only passion left inside these eyes.
Never again compressing all that I am;
a punk non-aborted fetus that is gonna make good.
Cause I believe this!

Fighting starts and ends tonight.
The dead will die over and over again –
precisly why I will never make the effort to change enemies
into friends.
Iced cold eyes? Muscles and gel hair? Why dont I listen?
Because it is for the ignorant, that I don’t care.
Bleeding in the dirt, noone ever puts a grasp on me.
And thus, interaction with stoned faces with closed minds hurts.
It’s not the surface.
What curses me is your pure density and love for blashamy, never seeing what is deep.

Thus the story continues to move on through.
This time I’m going straight toward you, to save you further confusion of insubordinate youth.
This isn’t angst. It’s truth. The first truth that didnt come from you?
To that comes a laugh. God is the only one who knows the facts.
And in God, I trust. You’re just a dumb ass, who will never fully grasp what it means to be
locked on fire and integrity in intensity and prophetic pursuit.
I will not allow you to open my mind and pollute.
If I wasnt raised right, it’s an obstacle.
It gives me more heart, to know that my beginings were not wanted to start, by you.
I was gifted and good conviction is still the only thing uplifting.
If my mother failed, and I am a beast, watch me transform as I poetically release all the venom.
Watch me rise like yeast, take our names and bring heaven’s credit to them.
We’ve all been through hell once and again.
Bur I don’t qualify, cause I’m alive.
You’re fuckin dead, with heart hollow and sore.
Don’t let the flames of justice hit you on you’re way out the door.
Your bullshit; I am now, for sure, worth more then to stand to endure it.
I’m gone now.
When I will emerge in prodigal style to burn hate and sing?
In my honor, and in your bitterness and spit, there will be no warning.
The Soul and The Enigma have now become one and found motivation to split.
if you have a problem with me.
For, blindness is not a part of what I was created to breath.
Choke on this shit.
Silence is a virtue and it is the moment to leave, when tradgety turns to irony,
and irony turns to humorous misfortune and anger.
I’m editing out that portion of my famly.
To forget a stranger, is executed more easily.
Myelf, ressurection and sure to be forever more and able to see
in the dark of famly-tied anarchy.

Mike O’Toole