Pencil in hand, muse in head,
Thinking of that which should’ve been said.
You say your word is your bond
But how much longer will you string along?
A shroud I wear trying to grasp at the shadows
The shadows that ditch and snatch as I gasp for air.
You take unto yourself the luxuries of life
Chanting and making notes of all the hearts you break in your wake.
The life you lead will one day take a toll
As you try to tell, your stories unfold.
Distinct measures made on winning you over
Leads to sentimental trituration of those whose eyes you cover.
The cloud that masks our vision and the rain that washes our sight
Is enough to show how much your plight is blight.
You say you are strong enough to withhold
And the idea that impregnates you is one that without effort will remain untold.
You push, you pull, you bend and you break
And an Old Wife’s Tale puts your memories at stake.
You coax yourself to believe that which doesn’t exist
You induce thoughts of what should be real against what isn’t.
You long to pour out that, which you do not possess,
Because of the need to become obsessed.
Obsession with new thrills and the occasional saturnalia
Keeps you young and fresh, but u never have enough genitalia.
Don’t fight it, let it happen.
Do not strangle your unfed impulse
The one you try to create strenuously
Relax love, you’re a beautiful soul,
A thrilling peach, an exotic fruit.
You are awesome the way you are and the way you are meant to be.
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