I’m Holding On
To the backwater version
Of an overplayed song
It goes on, and on, and on, and on
Playing in my head so strong.
"Hey, nice to see you
...It’s been way too long.
Maybe we should just fall
Together, into the breach
And let the world have it all;
It puts it all in our reach
Where we detach from the great wall
That keeps us drinking that bleach (of our soul)
And leaves us to fall."
Always holding back,
But more like holding on
To the things bygone
From an era of unsupervised censorship.
An unscrupulous amount
Of all the tantamount
Things that dictate a courtship.
What happened to fate?
One person, left to taste
The bitter baste on a wasted craftsmanship
Of time and space, a cleft lip
On the logo of the failed business of telling people "what’s up."
Why don’t we stop telling each other what we deserve?
We already know what we deserve, that’s why we
It’s our origin story;
A story of what’s deserved,
Versus what’s rendered
In all it’s ultimately meaningless splendor:
A life sentence without parole, with some intellectually conjugal visits now and then.
Sin. Just sin.
But again and again I just sit thinkin:
"Worth so much is your kiss
That it sets amiss
All the other things I thought;
And in truth I ought
To be more composed, but I’m not...
Just a gooey messssssssssssssssssssssslol"
In a way that makes us better, not worse...
But needing things isn’t for everyone.
Miniscule amounts of time spent...
But yearning to spend more.
Thinking about you always,
How can I stop when it
Obfuscates the negative with a positive
Understanding of how I should be treated?
Going under has never felt better,
Having less has never felt like more
Than what I really wanted anyways.
At last, all things are good;
Lying in wait for that which is
Wanted, and wanting every waking moment.
Abiding the rules, never stepping out;
You never know what will happen, and
Surely we just don’t care anymore...
My paramour of par amour,
Comme tu es toujours dans mon esprit mon amour...
I’m apathetic and complacent
Complaining about things adjacent
To where I need to park.
And in the stark contrast
Created by the blast
Of my emotions at mast,
I find that what chains me is the past.
Bad decisions make bad memories
And bad memories make no remedies
For the complete lack of reverie
In my life.
No dream right now,
I have to figure out how
To find my way back to purpose,
Climb out of the hole to the surface
And make my way back to the clarity
That used to stare at me like a scared child.
So mild yet wild
In its juxtaposition, this child
Making suppositions styled
After all the miles I haven’t traveled.
And in my life court, gavelled
"Guilty" of my gravelled existence
Of mixed wins and losses,
And all the faucets
I can’t turn off.
My love, my hate,
My flittery way of getting a ghostly embrace
To make a taste I can’t lose.
Just use it as a dry rub or whatever,
Parce que cela ne pourrait pas signifier moins que ce qu’il fait,
Mais au moins ça veut dire quelque chose
...Je vis donc un autre jour dans l’espoir de te revoir