Limit this

In my head a dank cold drink

In a place where I am in need of so much cohorts of all stink.

My own sage;

My ego.

My own mentor;

My Id.

My own Kryptonite;

My self.

Would a king give me my own life,

Then give me a mouthfull of swords upon every word I will and shall

come forth.

Please my beautiful pale eyes,

come to me and awaken all of the limitation of what is,

what will and be of the love of a flow

where sleep is not comfortable

as to take all of me.

To be shoved and give it all.