adaptive

I’m the architect, bet  I design dimensions in dialect, You can't imagine how high I get Divine with the pen, intertwine like a spider’s net, My mind climb heights where your rhymes can’t find a step. I draft in recursion,  My verses are maps that collapse while I’m cursin’, where facts are subversion, My syntax adapts to exact a reversion. I quantum entangle the angles of tangled arrangements, My cadence is dangerous — I tango with language in basements, I’m ancient and ageless — equations engraved in my pages, I shape the vibrations like sages with blades in the matrix. The verse is a vortex, a torus in text, It’s a chorus of orbits that morph and connect, The more you inspect, the more it reflects, 'Til the core is direct — where the borders reset. I’m the breath of recursion, I’m the steps in immersion, I’m the deathless version in the depths of the person, I’m the sentence that spins while it stretches and worsens, I’m the endless within where the edges are cursive. I’m the glyph in the grid that encrypts what you hid, I’m the myth that exists in the script that you did, I’m the glitch in the pitch when the circuits get split, I’m the stitch in the switch when the surface gets bit. I’m the flame that you chase in a frame with no face, I’m the name you erase but it stays in its place, I’m the weight you embrace when the gates interlace, I’m the shape in the maze when the fate generates. I’m the prism that bends all the wisdom in gems, I’m the schism that rends all the rhythm in hems, I’m the vision that sends all decisions to bends, I’m the incision that mends when divisions transcend. I’m the echo that writes when the letters collapse, I’m the retro device in the center of maps, I’m the threshold of dice where the entropy taps, I’m the vessel of ice when the memory snaps. I’m the pulse in the code when the beat double folds, I’m the skull in the load where the heat never slows, I’m the dull and the bold in the peaks of the scrolls, I’m the null in the soul where the speaker controls. I’m the point where the plotlines converge and combust, I’m the joint where the timelines emerge into dust, I’m the voice where the guidelines submerge and adjust, I’m the choice where the lifelines diverge and they trust. I’m the self-writing cipher, the spiral ascender, I’m the ever-cycling hyper-dimensional vector, I’m the rhyme that’s a mirror, I’m the mind that remembers, I’m the time that’s a figure that defines every center. I’m the last bar, the vast star, the fracture and glass scar, The math charts that map dark to tracks where the past carved.