I'm a young Frank Sinatra-

I'm feeling all kinda jaded,

I should probably call out of work cuz I just masturbated.

I'm an audited casualty,

Made from contradicted personalities,

And often made from panic,

In a small minded manic.

Got me strung out on a cord like phone sex operator,

And I'm exasperated enough to feeling all conflicted,

Like the way when kids smoke once and say they are addicted.

I become the halls behind your teeth,

Soothing down your throat-

Like the tongue seeped in your mouth when you whisper "Daddy choke."

I'm an SNL sketch,

Getting no pay, not even under the desk.

I trip over my thoughts and deeply minded remarks,

But that's what happens when you're always alone in the dark.

So I'm a dog with no bark,

And I got no spark,

My stars got light nor a charge.

It's so bizarre-

In the context that I'm spitting,

I got no resolve,

I'm just saying stupid stuff just in and out my flaws.

Just panicked,

I've missed out and miss it-

The crowd's in awe.

This poem's been shifted with no applause,

But watch how I evolve-

And see how you deny it,

And claim I'm just a player, looking for player 2.

I'm just a Mario-

Finding my Peach,

Immaculate peace-

My thoughts are a disease,

Turning my wants into needs,

The same way you beg, while grounded on your knees.