Sitting room only.
Everything I stand for fell by the wayside.
Never in this heart, but always in these eyes –
the energies disguising their despising of truth.
Perspective is a ruthless mutha…
navigating minds to give reason to
abuse one another.
One can’t further the cause of another
‘cause good intentions come with a clause;
good for me, doesn’t mean good for you.
Your shade of green colors my shade of blue.
Prosperity gleaning from the stroking of your
superfluous ego leaves the streaming
of my dreaming washed out cold.
Fire smothered by the wet blanket of indifference;
worth diminished in the smugness of knowing;
love stifled through the unraveling of pretense;
hence, the unseemly filtering of
my outward spirit.
There’s simply no justice in it…
ergo, where you go, I cannot.
Hope drips eternal, but it’s a slow leak, and
each time I stand up for it;
some piece of shit blots it out.
I try to widen the spout, but
narrow is the mind of the disbeliever
and cynicism is contagious.
Flying high becomes outrageous…
the longer I pour universal ideology
down the drains of tunnel vision mentality.
The vacuum is full and needs to be emptied,
but thick skins hold firmly to their dust;
sights blink blinded by loose particles bound
to nothingness. And so,
I recline in resolve.
Passion – just a pulse along the small of the
backbone I sink low to rest deep in.
Cradle me tight in this not quite fetal pose,
as I transpose my bearings from my
outcast wearings to the quiet place inside.
Hush you utterings of my soul
into this safe empty space,
which holds my every weight,
at least until I have the
strength to rise again.