The air sucks here, dust and smog from the Great Firewall, so I'm bound to breathe it all inside, with my windows shut and my eyes wide, absorbed in a cluster of lines. I contemplate - all intertwined - but with no guitar or Chinese date, yet, I toil onward, like what's an adlib? Paddling with misshaped paddles, battling myself, rattling my brain for help. Delve into a new space along these airwaves. I could be the Teddy Pendergrass of rap and sing sweet lullabies perhaps, or the Rain Main T-Pain with a bright brain, a chain, and a tune or two thirds. I'm a fraction, a faction and quite active so let's get going. Seek the all knowing. Stones get to rolling. Time gets to slowing while I test it. Try and best those before me. Adore me on the shoulders of boulders. Teddy Rycroft.

Don't get green I'm trying to keep it down and stay modest, honest, honest but Oh, it's so hard this just how it sounds to be on it, honest, honest I'm a villain in the sky, murder murderers, hide. Bird of prey is on the prowl, bitch, pray he ain't nearby, who is he? Teddy Rycroft, slap-happy Hawaiian bandit, rap savvy, tongue tying, dung flinging, gun slinging, don bringed his big hip-hop bout about the no fame but fortune aforementioned fucks - he reprimands them. Yes I've been running laps just to end this, senseless utterance of raps the conventions pensive. Butterball motherfuckers gotta ball but I bet a baller ain't been hip to his offenses. Up against the fences when I breathe out on a track. A commencement of me weeding out these wack king Tut muttering sing song sputter butts. Metaphors out the door, I just bust a butter nut. Bust it better, fat brats bitter, frat bro? No, slip-slop line spitter, Busta Rhymin climbing higher finding diamonds inside of minds - that glitter. Eyed miming in the silence so now prized, sized up, lines tough, swan dive in clitor...ascending up? And I don't mean to boast but if I don't brag in a plethora of ways they'll be stepping on my ass. I'm the dracula of all trades let me demonstrate: My tongue game is one game you don't want to fuck with. I'm too fast you lose gas and end up quite luckless and newsflash yo boos ass at tongue game its rubbish. She don gave me dengue but it's ok I'm bloodless. but it's ok I'm blunderless, tear me asunderless. No time to undermine my rhymes I'm plundering dime after dime of the change you have claimed to have brought wonder why "just this time" is the name of the fame you have wrought And I'm never going to rest, lines in my mental need a place to vent, I'm too pressed. X right next to your name on my checklist. Let's get festive with these aimless, shameless, basic bitches. I berate empty MCs to see if I can't break them down to pieces. Feast on the weak, say grace, ceaseless Jason. The deceased rest peaceless, yes it's Ted from the D.o.C. not the D.M.V. just the D.o.C. and I'm conquering fools quickly like A.S.A.P. with ease, middle fingers at me, don't linger see I'm Chance singing: Oh, and your bitch breaks down my week sometimes, but I don't smoke Sour-D, only dope gorilla green that'll put me int he mood to write.That's a metaphor, for the goal I'm headed for. More than only fetters for my enemies a bit of better score a bit of better pitter patter on the door of holy pedigree. Holy-moly batter up, slathered in my verbal muck. A matador with Halle Berry badder whores up in his truck and a fatter score, tally up the matter like a Jordan dunk. Acting like a homie flunked class, put your ass in the seat, but I'm fast with this beat, and the masses agree, luster lacking defeat, of the hapless deceased. Dummies tactless with me so its back to the teat. Teddy-Bear motherfucker I'm your mascot. Rock to the beat like Fred rocked the ascot. Mining to the depths of the past, gods blinding my steps, straight running until a homie hit bedrock!

The rain falls, listless as my brain calls, wincing as the pain throbs - stop, no, again. The rain falls, listless as my brain calls. Fists full of nothing, stalling, biting on my fingers. Walking down the same halls. Talking to myself, quietly, in the silence, listening to the rainfall, drawn to the windowsill. Glistening lights from the nearby street, still silent. Pills lie by my sink. I took an Advill. I can recall every time I blinked. And at night with the lights off lying, still silent, on my bed with my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling hoping the rain could fall a little bit harder so it wouldn't be so silent. And I close my eyes and I'm dying or stabbing into another body, why do these silent visions haunt me, flaunting, and taunting my psyche? Just breathe. They come to me in the day as I softly ponder or look away. Fill my mind with horrors or wonder. In small moments offering to tear my body asunder. As I stand at the station waiting for the train my heart leaps at the thought of leaping into the tracks. It's raining, there's no pain, only jumping. Either that or throwing another body, knowing they would die quickly and quickly I step away from the side. Put my hands in my pockets, brooding. Confused because for a moment it felt sane, it felt right in the rain to die. I ask why in the silence but of course there's no response but the quiet sky above me, calm and callous. Silent front, what is it that beckons me closer, the form of which folds inward? My innards twist in your fingers and I remain remiss to your motives, bitch. Perhaps it were some sinner within me with a glimmer of evil dressed in robes from the foot of the steeple or simply a phase that left my body in a trembling gaze, restless. Or even a product of stress. Regardless I found it best to wish for the rain to rain harder and just breathe.

I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, no you don't, no,but I seen MS-13 spray paint, Check It too. Ain't no wrecking fools but I got robbed once for my ipod 2. Blue, in my black and white checkered vans. I was the man before then, cool, in a school uniform like "whats the plan?" Stan ain't said shit and I ain't said shit for a year after that, fooled into not trusting no man. Introducing agent Rycroft aka undercover DC resident aka bowling with the president aka fuck you staring at me for? aka sit at the front of the bus. Four door, I ride shotgun, and by that I mean the seats that move up for wheelchairs. I had a dream I was on the street I sat bit by a rabid dog and died quickly, or one time a man was chasing me asking me for smokes, I said no and ran home swiftly. That wasn't a dream. I know, I killed my whole family once though, or my whole family got killed. I then spilled blood, bludgeoning and skilled until I decided it was right, or woke up, blighted blood blood blood Burgundy tie, confused discipulus wondering why, pudgy and bludgeoning. That was a dream. I mean I felt safe in some ways. I coped as a game. The nave I sang in cast the doubt away Geppetto with my falsetto wishing for a peace of mind and to get home before dark. Thought I was bound to stay, bound by chains I had found that day. Jose on that pedestal, don't wreck me, I'm gay. I walk through the Market of the Capitol Hi- homie that shits wack. Yeah, but I have a tight pack, no crack, no gunshots, not much pack. Lots of drinking though, yeah, and slinking off into empty bedrooms. Not much headroom in these basements but the bass in the room had us all wearing shades now cool, even winter. poetic justice? Maybe not. We sneak into pools or onto rooftops. Even while afraid of being caught by the blue, the prude in the group, I'm content with my own thoughts, off the clock. Tallest boy on the block, no longer afraid of the world no longer surprised by the in between the thighs of girls. Wondering too much about the in between the thighs of girls. Aka husband of Hayden Pannetiere, aka husband of Jeniffer Lawrence, aka husband of Emma Watson aka underwear commercial orgies. Sorry, I put my Hanes up in the air, lame, I know, but better than bloody and maimed, at least in my membrane. I aim yes, at you head yes. That was at Avery's house playing halo, fuck you talking about? Well, somethings stay the same, havens stay havens, heaven above the peach tree in Jeffrey's backyard. They're hard as rocks when unripe. we hit them with bats and now smoke in the night. But it's a step up actually, from a dull gate of listless to a new stance of wishful thinking that, unlike the raven said could hopefully go on forevermore.

I mingle with darkness in a drunken state. Baby I'm gone, sipping Dom Perignon, more like Gordan's but remorseless, sedated, distorted, elated and important so I seem to be in an alcoholic dream. Perhaps tearing at the seams, in fact, with a cup to my lips, burning blunt at the tip. I'm tactful, bashful, mackful, Jill and Bella...or is it Lilly and Stella? I met you at Coachella? Marry and - hella ass, damn - sorry the liquor's past me, Daphne? She slaps me laughs, "T's wack", tease back, "distract me", happily, pack weed, Pack, we pass then Pabst together, me, Julie, and Heather, giving fucks like who's better? spill stains on my sweater. Can't stop staring at her breasts, thorns on our heads or horns what a mess, I was born coming back from the liquor store on eighth with Jack and Powerade, bleh. But now were saved, and now we rage, as the trumpets blare, my only care what's in my cup, what's in my bladder. Fatter in my fiction, even badder with my slurred diction. Pitter patter as they mix drinks, bitter sinners finna titter teeter over from the bitter matter that empowered them, don't fix things. Homie don't fix shit! I mean this I need this, I'm fiending for seamless indulgences. Bitch, I'm a dove in the day but unafraid in a fray when I'm ticked you're a dick, I'm drunk, we hug, there's dirt on the rug, lets get up fucked I can feel the buzz, I don't know who I is, I don't know who I was, still I face this shit. Still I smile as I say I deserve this shit. "All work, no play", nod my head to the beat just bounce. I play beer pong rip ice bong Rick Ross song, caught a glimpse of Helen's pink Pink thong, something in my heads wrong. Tummy tosses, I swerve. Outside visions blurred, looking down at the cement whoa all the cracks squirm, look at all the stars turn - did I just see cement? Say cement? Say semen? Say she's gleaming, seeming to say "T's up". Hey miss C cup, did you miss me? Bitch, I beseech thee, hit you with a kiss and we're blissful. Mistress, see, I'm Mr. rabbit. You're my niche and I'm weak with a really bad habit. Dark room busy bees don't think just please. What fate, shes bait. That's good in my hood like: does she see these in DC I say si si si si surplus of seeds in the south, XO, whoops, the Sour D I hit next puts me in a drought but I gleefully found what I needed: sour patch kids in my pocket! I'm a demon seething with only holy rum and coca-coly matrimony in my tum to get beneath me. And I'm blurry and I'm slurry and upset maybe but I'll kirk, and I'll twerk. But I enjoy this, I enjoy th-

Dewdrops and mist cover the seams that I had missed, from which you could spring forth, a blossom blooming no longer kissed. My heart beats no more, consumed by the calm, quiet night before me. It dawned that maybe a light could lead the way, but with the one I had gone astray I suppose I shall have to endure it like this. It was strange leaving, like when I was younger, leaving the seashore, still wanting to see more, or waiting at the bus stop in the cold, a somber acceptance molded. I would tuck my hands in my pockets, or around mom's neck like a locket with a blank stare, I could go back to that shore now and bury my heart in the sand, so when I lay down and look up at the dark I would finally feel it - you understand. Unbelievable really, your eyes told me more than anything your body had before - walking along their quiet shores. I saw us in your eyes, I in you and thus I had to leave, didn't say a word save my sleeve. I should have walked, I should have taken that long path through Rock Creek Park, we should have talked about this more before it crept between our sheets in the dark - between our hands, you understand. I thought about the times you glared at me when I acted like a fool but also the moments where you lay, bare and naked before me, not physically; I mean, I could read every line on your skin and tell you were glowing within, and now only weep in the silent evening, save the soft rain and the ground gleaming. It had been cloudy before, all angry and shouty before, even rain, with a pain that made me ball my fists in the wetness. Now in each drop of what's remaining I see my own reflection, maimed and ghostly, only half of what it was supposed to be. I walk to the park and sit on the grass in the dark, spreading my hands all over the ground, hoping I could somehow soak all the dew back into me. I would still do that for you, you know, soak it all in and throw my shirt, standing, beaming, it seems so nice but now I cannot reach for you, cannot bring myself to do so - should not do so. The ground grows cold, and I hate it now, like a bold baby, hating the quiet cold mocking me. I look up at the stars wishing I could have seen us as they had, beyond the clouds and people in parties where I drank do much. The moon looks large from here. We should have lived there, we were going to live together somewhere. With a tether that would pull us closer as we kissed, closer and closer to bliss. I saw the valley green with spring too, skylark. But now only wander in the mist, listless.