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Imp of the Perverse

from Lost Hours by Jake the Adversary

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My mind’s out in three or four places
If I’m tired then I’ll be more creative
Peeping each form serrated
In my mindspace, each course debated
To arrive late, resource deflated
And the lines fade, recourse I’m racing
On the highway, seeing what the signs say
Crawling at a hundred miles an hour to my job
Crawling and I’m listening to beats what a SOB
Falling and I’m inching to asleep on the clock

But as long as I can listen to the beat I devise tunes
Thinking to myself, is this the beat I’ma die to?
Twelve feet behind a yellow Jeep and the thought forms
What if I could jump into his bumper going Mach 4?

What if I kept driving when I came upon my exit
And turned a missing person by the time I stop for breakfast?
Time is not to mess with, need to settle when I spit so
And take my foot back off the fucking pedal, man, that shit’s close!

…Back to where it was
Don’t need to crash and perish young
I need to pass and share my love of
Ekeing raps from air and blood
From stones I grab and bury some
What underneath my tearing lungs
And lose my sight like James Joyce and
Breathe my last in Paris slums

We’re entering a slow zone
We’re entering a slow zone

Eyes straight ahead and I wouldn’t want to spin out but
What would happen if I pressed my foot another inch down?

How much electricity would need to travel down my arm
To make my hand spasm and allow my car to pound the car
Ahead of me I sound bizarre and people often sound alarms
When I confound the hearts so now the art is down and dark more

If every choice we make splits the universe in two parts then
Every time a neural gate can open there’s a doomed car and
I’m not too far from nearly crashing now - it’s something else
My lack of self-control is merely averaged out through other selves

I’m steadying my mind as my hands steers
I don’t want people measuring survival rates in amperes
Don’t want to do the Seventh Seal dance here
And get some people puzzled at the snuffing of my scant years
Break a plan, break a date, break a man, break away
Break apart, break a vow, break a heart, break a leg

Don’t suffer sordid sociopathy
More conditioned OCD and morbid curiosity
And what scares me more than the option of a stray strafe is that
Other people operate the same way and say they don’t to save face.

credits

from Lost Hours, released March 12, 2019
Beat by Uncle Milk

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Jake the Adversary Accident, Maryland

Rap game Zorian Kazinski. Extropian. The Jake is a verb.

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