“In Chengdu, it’s called ‘Marinating with the Chickens.’ So… ‘Cluck, Cluck’ and go get your wet wipes b*tch!” – E. Huang

What’s cooking, good looking? From afar you got me shookt, flipped and dipped into a craze of lust. Don’t fuss, and trust that I’m not just looking to bust these * doors… To leave you floored, scorned, n sore. Begging for more, than just muscle spasms. I fathom to give you mental * stimulus… From this rigorous syllabus, you will learn how ridiculously I yearn to see you squirm in love, with me. Persuading thee using this boulder sitting above my shoulders. Heart trying not to smolder and melt at how your bravura is felt. I suppose to slowly disclose how badly I want to rip off your *insecurities… Using my linguistic dexterity, you foresee I wish to kiss your lips. Those between your hypocrisies… I’m being real, no fugazis or forgeries, allow my words to steal and kidnap your feels. The sap leaking out my face-flap is all fact. I seek to hijack the damsel in distress being fed to the wrong mattress. And treat you like a GODDESS because you’re no mistress.


Knowledge of Self

Evident how inhaling deep drags from rolled zig-zags, helps my mind escape the gulag. So finally this stag gets his chance to nag. I’m Connivingly silent when I lay like a laymen, and this gentleman gentile will lift the ambiance with a smile. I Puff more magic than the Dragon himself. Peep the jargon, as my words strike and pierce the heart. There’s None capable of matching my arts. And Without a struggle this muggle is able vent to let his words wreck. Now inspect and dissect the dialect of this bi-racially mixed gent. I’m Infused with the burning herbal so my verbal remains viscous it’s riddled with substance and Vicious. Knowing the ledge I stand on, i bear wisdom by the day. Understand that ancestors live in the words I have to say. I’m Cultured by the old earth’s love, and I refine the power given from the sun above. I’m Equally balanced and sensible, there’s no mystery that this god is tangible. I try to Drop knowledge using 7 notes on the musical scale to help and build the frail. So i’m surgical to only mate with the original. There’s fate in this cipher’s innate ability to help you see clearly. That our circle has no beginning or end. It just is. Peace.


I’m not knowing what to expect so I sit in stress, ready to undress my last bits of uttered respect. I’m lustfully dreading the approaching event, nervously craving the excitement and I’m ready to participate without bets. Yeah, “First time for everything,” is cliché, but I’m hoping this won’t be a painful session of oral play. I studied long and hard how alphas woo with their bars. The friction from the rhythmic linguistics erected my verbal diction. So I anticipate to penetrate your psychology with my dialectology. ‘Cause I’ll be savagely spitting phrases in symmetry and performing spoken hysterectomies.

I’m not afraid or at fault for perversion caused by this orchestrated literary assault.

Questioning readiness is not an option. So I’ll just relax and sip on some potion. The liquid confidence can make me feel less tense, enough to forget about an audience. But if I chug too much and I’ll throw up word vomit followed by hiccups. I might be impaired and unable to see if I’m even performing adequately.

But I’m ALL IN and not looking to pull out.

I pouts as the spout is about to bust but i have to let every word out.

Shits nuts.