The Sickness

Brought together as one; even stronger than kismet; It keeps me up all through the night I call it my sickness. No cough syrup or man made medicine at this point can cure me; when I am laid down to rest as ash my sickness will still endure me. Cold sweats hot flashes are my normal temperature; I dare a moral man to be consumed and begin to venture ; into MY sickness each time I spit I cough up and see; I've painted a new adventure or rather a " before its time” genealogical oddity. Disgusting what I have; discussing each time the pad, meets the pen the masses confer I am truly sick within. My body shiver and shakes at the sick things I contemplate and when I put my thoughts articulately together my brain power annihilates; any confusion or absurd reason the weak minded disillusion, I am sick and I need help, I've been diagnosed  a subliminal brain contusion. Perceptions of inceptions is how my sickness first flows, neglections of infections is how my sickness incessantly grows. We are symbiont we need each other we are one in the same, at an early age I felt the difference when my sickness first came. Some may stop and wonder what in the HELL makes me think I am so sick? Both the Devil and The Grim Reaper visited the world of the living just to tell me I kill it. So sick with my talent so naturally I’m the illest, card counting these other writers so when they comes to play I deals it.