Pandora's Box

Maybe we’re cracking Pandora’s box wide, watching our minds and the clock hands slide.
You heard the real shit when the locks on my chest finally popped,
stood in the storm when the pressure got hot.
You watched me fumble the lid, didn’t flinch, didn’t run,
helped me see if the mess could make sense in the flood.
Appreciate you staying right here while I’m hunting an exit from all of this mud.

Let’s get into the body’s own pharmacy, chemicals cooking inside this anatomy.
We produce heavy hallucinogens naturally, shifting the senses without any strategy.
Dimethyltryptamine hits the pineal gland like a built-in signal for vital efficiency,
cultures been using it centuries, ripping the curtain to turn all the hurt to systemic epiphany.
Wild how the folks dropping logic and science still land on the same goddamn visions and codes,
laser-point patterns, geometric designs, and mechanical voices in low-tempo modes.
They talk about survival mechanics, bypassing the panics, explaining the grid,
unloading in bursts with a sacred alignment that shows us exactly the things that we hid.
Makes me wonder if we’re flipping a switch on a native pathway we buried alive,
while society rushes us into this digitized glitch where only the algorithms survive.
Did we lock up a chamber we used to possess when we fell out of grace and abandoned the race?
Or did modern speed force it dormant, buried under deadlines and computerized haste.

I’m taking the leap ‘cause your frequency matches the deeper trace I’ve been chasing alone.
Usually isolate, let cynical energy smother the room till the sleeper’s face turns to stone.
Never felt good enough, figured nobody’d value the bitterest bars that I write in the dark,
assumed you’d get bored of my awkward ass quick, so I kept it locked up tight to play the safe part.
But you showed up and you actually listened, noticed the vision, and made the decision,
to welcome the madness, the baggage, the grief without any immediate analytical fission.
Genuine support, you bypassed the border, unraveled the damage and handed me peace,
mapping the gratitude patterns, matching your attitude, granting a massive release.
Driven by raw intuition, split-second conditions, compulsion to render this project alive,
this ain't no flex, no fake representation, just honest appreciation that helped me survive.

No more surface-level small talk, I am burning the template, I am learning to break out the cage that I built.
No more hiding the wreckage or living in debt to the regular pressure and heavy ass guilt.
You tuned straight to the frequency, stood in the center when monsters ran loose and the whole floor shook.
Grateful somebody finally gets the reality, read the anatomy, opened the book.

Maybe we’re cracking Pandora’s box wide, watching our minds and the clock hands slide.
You heard the real shit when the locks on my chest finally popped…
stood in the storm, didn’t leave when it got hot.
Appreciate you staying right here.

4427/7500

Look, I never pictured myself spilling this shit to another adult, but here we are, stomach in knots. Got a heavy result from the generic insult of a life that I live when the therapy stops. Constant distrust got me scanning the exits, frantic and breathless, managing thoughts, should’ve been talking it out instead of burying blades in the backyard and planning these plots. Yelling my questions at plaster and ceilings, masking the feelings, damaging trust, handling pressure by turning the silence to violence until all my sanity rusts. Small talk feels like a plastic disease, people passing degrees just to chatter and trap, hustling fake smiles and basic ass bullshit from casual types typing raps on their laps. But flip the switch to a topic that matters, I lock in and shatter the factual roots, people get scattered the minute I capture the data and use it to track down the truth. Give me a rhythm and I’m swimming inside of the medicine, settling into the lane, foot on the gas like a maniac actor the minute you spin it to deaden the pain. Maybe we’re cracking Pandora’s box wide, watching our minds and the clock hands slide. You heard the real shit when the locks on my chest finally popped, stood in the storm when the pressure got hot. You watched me fumble the lid, didn’t flinch, didn’t run, helped me see if the mess could make sense in the flood. Appreciate you staying right here while I’m hunting an exit from all of this mud. Let’s get into the body’s own pharmacy, chemicals cooking inside this anatomy. We produce heavy hallucinogens naturally, shifting the senses without any strategy. Dimethyltryptamine hits the pineal gland like a built-in signal for vital efficiency, cultures been using it centuries, ripping the curtain to turn all the hurt to systemic epiphany. Wild how the folks dropping logic and science still land on the same goddamn visions and codes, laser-point patterns, geometric designs, and mechanical voices in low-tempo modes. They talk about survival mechanics, bypassing the panics, explaining the grid, unloading in bursts with a sacred alignment that shows us exactly the things that we hid. Makes me wonder if we’re flipping a switch on a native pathway we buried alive, while society rushes us into this digitized glitch where only the algorithms survive. Did we lock up a chamber we used to possess when we fell out of grace and abandoned the race? Or did modern speed force it dormant, buried under deadlines and computerized haste. Maybe we’re cracking Pandora’s box wide, watching our minds and the clock hands slide. You heard the real shit when the locks on my chest finally popped, stood in the storm when the pressure got hot. You watched me fumble the lid, didn’t flinch, didn’t run, helped me see if the mess could make sense in the flood. Appreciate you staying right here while I’m hunting an exit from all of this mud. I’m taking the leap ‘cause your frequency matches the deeper trace I’ve been chasing alone. Usually isolate, let cynical energy smother the room till the sleeper’s face turns to stone. Never felt good enough, figured nobody’d value the bitterest bars that I write in the dark, assumed you’d get bored of my awkward ass quick, so I kept it locked up tight to play the safe part. But you showed up and you actually listened, noticed the vision, and made the decision, to welcome the madness, the baggage, the grief without any immediate analytical fission. Genuine support, you bypassed the border, unraveled the damage and handed me peace, mapping the gratitude patterns, matching your attitude, granting a massive release. Driven by raw intuition, split-second conditions, compulsion to render this project alive, this ain't no flex, no fake representation, just honest appreciation that helped me survive. No more surface-level small talk, I am burning the template, I am learning to break out the cage that I built. No more hiding the wreckage or living in debt to the regular pressure and heavy ass guilt. You tuned straight to the frequency, stood in the center when monsters ran loose and the whole floor shook. Grateful somebody finally gets the reality, read the anatomy, opened the book. Maybe we’re cracking Pandora’s box wide, watching our minds and the clock hands slide. You heard the real shit when the locks on my chest finally popped… stood in the storm, didn’t leave when it got hot. Appreciate you staying right here.

0/500