Monday, August 8, 2011
Only
Hemph.
Not sure why...or how...or even a what...
The harder I try to fit in...really the less I do.
The more the reason why I see I just don't belong.
More and more.
A quarter of a century into this...train wreck lovingly called life...
I just don't have it in me to play...
I'm not really sure who, what, when, why...any of it, any of it...
Things are so superficial with so many people.
Maybe it's been the reclusive nature of the summer...but the more I'm around people, the worst I feel...the more alien...the more dirt that seems to flow through my veins, sticking like mud.
I've got nothing and have nothing to really offer or give...
Just these jaded and skewed views.
That may or may not be...or not...
Honestly...that is even a part of it.
Honesty.
Regression.
Regret.
If only it was a simple as brushing things past and moving on.
There are somethings...others...
Nothing?
Relative.
Oh if only...
Only this, only that
and every shade
the truth could be colored in
and framed for all to see.
Truth ever so subjective
and brought under the whims
of the poison
via the vox populi,
a vis-à-vis of the soul
just like you imagined.
It's all fiction
and some lies
mixed with feel goodness.
Right?
I can't take this drink
or dance to this song,
all I want is the dark
and silence to be wrapped in.
Everything has become so spread out
and feeling so flawed,
infected by imperfections
and cancers.
Only this,
only that
and every way you twist the truth
to help you swallow it.
Shame and pain
and maybe just a sprinkle of powder
or whatever venom
it is you draw with.
Not sure why...or how...or even a what...
The harder I try to fit in...really the less I do.
The more the reason why I see I just don't belong.
More and more.
A quarter of a century into this...train wreck lovingly called life...
I just don't have it in me to play...
I'm not really sure who, what, when, why...any of it, any of it...
Things are so superficial with so many people.
Maybe it's been the reclusive nature of the summer...but the more I'm around people, the worst I feel...the more alien...the more dirt that seems to flow through my veins, sticking like mud.
I've got nothing and have nothing to really offer or give...
Just these jaded and skewed views.
That may or may not be...or not...
Honestly...that is even a part of it.
Honesty.
Regression.
Regret.
If only it was a simple as brushing things past and moving on.
There are somethings...others...
Nothing?
Relative.
Oh if only...
Only this, only that
and every shade
the truth could be colored in
and framed for all to see.
Truth ever so subjective
and brought under the whims
of the poison
via the vox populi,
a vis-à-vis of the soul
just like you imagined.
It's all fiction
and some lies
mixed with feel goodness.
Right?
I can't take this drink
or dance to this song,
all I want is the dark
and silence to be wrapped in.
Everything has become so spread out
and feeling so flawed,
infected by imperfections
and cancers.
Only this,
only that
and every way you twist the truth
to help you swallow it.
Shame and pain
and maybe just a sprinkle of powder
or whatever venom
it is you draw with.
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