The Stockholm Syndrome

[PROLYPHIC] I picked up and left at dawn's early breath with no warning Headed west with a heavy chest on a cold morning No letter to explain why; there ain't time I left my room as empty as the day I arrived I took what I can fit inside a tote bag Cans of soup, beans, matches, a knife and a note pad A road map that's outdated, meds that won't last Wrote my name and ID number on the insides of my clothes tags And entered the December woods, never looked back I stayed close to the highway, every 6 hours see what the signs say Roads were blocked off, bodies of those who froze lay stiff Stripped by other refugees and condors I marched forth through the forest green, eating corn and beans Passed by the endless fences of those quarantined Lost in the scheme nature built Primitive survival never learned, only taught manual labor skills Got what it takes to kill, just not enough strength Spent the day trying to build a makeshift tent When I awoke, my body was so cold I couldn’t move The matches got wet, trying to stretch the last of the food Exhausted and awake, finally reached New York state But Ive been stricken with a fever and cough I can't shake I’ve taken the last of the medication, hope I can make it To catch a train at Penn Station Destination? as far as fifty bucks can take me... We are waking up in our caskets… Only to find, our lovers are gone [MEDIUM ZACH] He’d get her booze and food, not much room to move Talkin’ to other guys, they’re like “who’s the dude?” Open relationship, out of sight, out of mind Trying out the other rides but none produce dollar signs She still ain’t leavin’, rent free, a meal ticket A paid bar tab, she’s still drinkin Convinced it ain’t that bad, although it isn’t fair Having to make a late night visit to urgent care Put it in the air, hands on her wrists like cuffs Held ‘em above her head, pressed against the glass cut When they broke through, too drunk, unaware of his weight Knows he still cares, and couldn’t bear her escape [BRANDON ALLDAY] Let me find something to write on before the night gone School sent him home for mutilatin’ his flesh Teared up plus retrace my steps: am I wrong? That’s amphibious; damn that’s hideous Live broadcast from the colonized Four in the morning, the lights still on Haven’t paid the bill in six months, they still runnin’ My grandmother asleep, she not his mother Pigeons come home to roost; she knows the truth Calls me still sayin’ please talk to him Block party, open to all villagers Well aware of the war but it still occurs We are waking up in our caskets… Only to find, our lovers are gone [GUANTE] (and on the journey I see) the police believe That they are white blood cells and we are the disease The politicians want peace But only the kind they can inject into our forearms Freedom ain’t free; but budget cuts at state and local levels Put that fee outta reach And my reason for breathin’ these days Is one more step underneath my feet This isn't my belief, it’s just what I been told This isn't a retreat, I’m tryin’ to get home This isn't true love, it’s a crisis yo This isn't patriotism, this is the Stockholm syndrome …I wake up in South Dakota Amber waves a memory, purple mountains closer Passerby with rumors of a border up at the Rockies Triage me and redline me: you can’t stop me I’m going, going back, back to cali, cali With brass knuckles and a backpack So don’t gimme that “nothing’ to see here, return to your homes Or duck and cover,” motherfucker no After everything you’ve taken from me You better pray this sickness keeps crawlin’ ‘cause if I had an extra second for breath or could spare a step I would carve her name in every one of your necks