Bits of rapture and fleeting emotions.

Hi, I'm Joey.

I eat, smoke, and smile too much. Sometimes I like books better than people. I'm addicted to Nicole Peralta ❤


—God's Bathroom Floor

[Intro] x2

Head, pressure, senses, clutch

Date, Divinity, wouldn’t, fuck

Touched, hazy, God, change

Rush, floor, life, veins

[Hook x2]

From a head full of pressure rest the senses that I clutch

Made a date with Divinity, but she wouldn’t let me fuck

I got touched by a hazy shade of God-help-me-change

Caught a rush on the floor from the life in my veins

[Verse 1]

It goes one for the cannabis, and two for your Dianetics

Three for your reasoning, and four for those that try to get it

Five for your love, and six for the stress

And seven for the day that I climbed into this mess


[Verse 2]

I’m catching ulcers from the childproof lighters

And all these fine-tooth biters that keep the wires in my head tighter

I’m tired out by the distances achieved walking in my sleep

Floors got shifted since the high, got a tad too deep

Ask Dad to keep cool, I’ll call him back as soon as I resume normal

And get out of this bathroom

And call management to seek some reimbursement

For the nerve endings that burnt from the first hits


[Verse 3]

So fuck needles, fuck smoke

Fuck lines that make the sinus choke

Fuck chasers, trails, fuck raves and rails

Fuck hangovers, fuck hallucinations

Regurgitations, mandatory sentences and UA tracing

Blind my insight and dull the common sense

Give me inhibition, kill the superstition and the confidence

Built a tolerance, now it’s more that I consume it

When it boards up my room, the world’s whores will croon in unison

Unify the eulogy, autopsy pages read euthanasia, i.e. irony

But here I be within a pool of my drool

Sedated, windows dilated, comatose, life overdose

Tell Jacob Miles to keep it wild style

I’ll promise I’ll smile

And check the floor, God’s got nice tile

Tell Jacob Miles to keep that shit wild style

And I’ll smile

And check the floor, God’s got nice tile


Head, pressure, senses, clutched

Date, Divinity, wouldn’t, fuck

Touched, hazy, God, change

Rush, floor, life, veins

(Source: hiphopzealot)



It’s the caffeine, the nicotine, the milligrams of tar

It’s my habitat, it needs to be cleaned, it’s my car

It’s the fast talk they use to abuse and feed my brain

It’s the cat box it needs to be changed, it’s the pain

It’s women, it’s the plight for power it’s government

It’s the way you’re giving knowledge 

slow with thought control and subtle hints

It’s rubbing it, It’s itching it, It’s applying cream

It’s the foreigners sight seeing with high beams, It’s in my dreams

It’s the monsters that I conjure, It’s the marijuana

It’s embarrassment, displacement, it’s where I wander

It’s my genre, It’s Madonna’s videos

It’s game shows, cheap liquor, blunts, 

and bumper stickers with rainbows

It’s angels, demons, gods, it’s the white devils

It’s the monitors, the soundman, it’s the fucking mic levels

It’s gas fumes, fast food, Tommy Hil’ and mommy’s pill

Columbia House music club, designer drugs and rhyming thugs

It’s bloods, crips, fives, six

It’s stick up kids, 

It’s christian conservative terrorists, it’s porno flicks

It’s the east coast, no it’s the west coast 

It’s public schools, it’s asbestos

It’s mentholated, It’s techno

It’s sleep, life, and death

It’s speed, coke, and meth

It’s hay fever, pain relievers, oral sex, and smokers breath

It stretches for as far as the eye can see

It’s reality, fuck it , it’s everything but me

On and on and on and on

The list goes on and on and on and on 

[KRS One scratched 4x] “it’s all according that life on a whole…”

It’s in the water, it’s in the air, it’s in the meat

It’s indirect, indiscrete, inconsistent, incomplete

It’s in the streets, every city and everywhere you go

In every man it’s the insanity, the fantasy, the casualties

It’s the health care system, it’s welfare victims

It’s assault weapons, it’s television religion, and it’s false lessons

It’s cops, police, pigs with badges guns and sticks

It’s harassment and a complex you carry when you’re running shit

It’s wondering if you get to eat, it’s the heat

It’s the winter , the weather

It’s herpes, and it’s forever

It’s the virus that takes the lives of the weak and the strong

It’s the drama that keeps on between me and my seed’s mom

It’s that need to speak long, it’s that hunger for attention

It’s the wack , who attack songs of redemption

It’s prevention, It’s the first solution

It’s loose, it’s out for retribution, 

it’s mental pollution…and public execution

It’s the nails that keep my hands and feet to these boards

It’s the part time job that governs what you can afford

It’s the fear, It’s the fake 

It’s clear it can make time stop 

and leave you stranded in the year of the snake

It’s the dollar, yen, pound, it’s all denomination

It’s hourly wages for your professional observations

It’s on your face and it’s in your eyes

It’s everything you be

Cause it ain’t me, motherfucker, cause it ain’t me, uh

On and on and on and on

The list goes on and on and on and on [3x]

It’s all according that life on a whole.

(Source: imchasincash)

Your love
Should never be offered to the mouth of a stranger,
Only to someone who has the valour and daring
To slice pieces from their soul with a blade
And weave them into a blanket
To protect you.

Hafez (via rumiswisdom)

(via midnightsolace)

Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life… But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Trainspotting (via ourloudeyes)

(Source: daydreamingeverything, via ourloudeyes)