Verse I see angles before bodies, motion before names, Clockwork behind eyelids, green glass in the brain. Hands fold probability, stillness learns to hunt, Silence is a weapon when the questions want a front. I don’t speak in answers, I emit conditions, Rooms rearrange themselves around my omissions. Truth isn’t shouted, it molts when it’s near, What you call a secret is just timing with fear. I watch thought crawl sideways out of human skin, You call it intuition—I call it ingress. No gods on the ceiling, no demons below, Just signal deciding where the signal can go. Hook Click—rotate—hold. Still before strike. Seeing is older than language, Knowing don’t need a mic. Verse I don’t say “they,” I say process at work, Patterns wearing faces so the lesson can hurt. You want names and confessions, a villain, a throne, But the truth moves cleaner when it travels alone. Every thought you think thinks back, checks posture, checks breath, Some doors open gently, some only by depth. I never warned you, I adjusted the frame, If something woke up in you—it already came. Outro No witnesses, no panic, no crown, no scar— Just a quiet upgrade in how sharp you are.
