I found the Violet City out the window.

Somedays is there.
Somedays is not.

Led Zeppelin sounds out of proportion.
While I prepare the porro.
Ja, Ja, Ja
I laugh because you cry.
These days are wild.
I'll never forget them, as long as I'm alive.
I'll probably change them, before I die.
But I'll keep on writing my unrhyming rhymes.
Devastated smoking ,
and exaggeratedly tripping.
I DON'T care if I'm alive.
I WILL forever die.
You ARE the Catcher on the Rye.
What the fuck do you write?
About jumping?
Don't lie...
You'd drown in my mind.
Serial Killer of the mic.
I don't sing it, I just think it.
Create.
Pieces of pieces of pieces.
Cranes of places that you've tasted.
The tongue of the wasted, passing through fleshes.
Scarring scared skin.
Kissing kissed lips.
Ripping ripped shirts.
Licking licked tips.
I’ll never please the pleased.
Break my ribs if you don’t need this.