s.p.u.r

(rap like spark master tape but poetic)

VerseGravel in the larynx, low tide crawling through the kick while the skyline blinks in static. ��

Sirens knit the corners of the room as airhorns peck the fog like carrion birds of the club night. ��

Mask keeps the name underwater; only sub‑bass signs the paperwork in trembling ink. ��

Chop the vowels into buckshot, let the consonants ricochet off brickwork like cold sparks. ��

Sample ghosts in the drywall hum noir sax and 8‑bit fever dreams over a crooked carousel. ��

The snare coughs cordite; the hat slices quiet in centimeters of glass. ��

I let the camera forget me while the kick memorizes your pulse in four blunt arguments. ��

Gunshot ad‑libs blink hazard lights; laughter from the stairwell never quite belongs to anyone. ��

Beat lurches left—tempo on black ice, vowels detuned till they crawl under the door. ��

Anonymous on purpose, myth heavier than the man, persona zipped in an unmarked file. ��

I count the locks like rosary beads, each click another verse shaved to the bone. ��

Tape hiss prays in the margins; strings unsheathe and the room grows narrow. ��

If hunger speaks in clicks and clacks, feed it meter and let the grid go soft. ��

Heavy sampling in the bloodstream, grit in the hi‑end, a shadow chewing loops at midnight. ��

Switch again—the bass becomes a stairwell, every step a rumor with steel‑toed feet. ��

I move like a secret with a fuse, faceless but fluent in the language of recoil. ��

Neon sweats down brick; the city keeps time on a busted security cam. ��

Pitch it lower till the floorboards answer back, then time‑stretch the fear until it sings. ��

Brown noise halos the syllables; the hook is a hallway that never reaches the street. ��

No new names, just numbers on envelopes and dust on the peephole glass. ��

I barter breath for thunder, trade silhouettes for fingerprints in the kick drum ledger. ��

Airhorn freckles on the fog, sirens quilting a map nobody wants to read. ��

If truth is a locked room, let the drums testify through the cracks and leave the lights alone. ��