Out of loud retrospective calamity
and a furious wind of lust
there's a tinge of awareness in the air.
The sting of the fire, and the shiver of worry.
Viewed through biased eyes and the shameful recipient's lips,
a petastel of invulnerability. A thrown of disillusion.
Masks of unhappiness. Cold and unscaved.
Much far beyond the romance of twilight saturated with
envy, anger, and apathy.
When did it arrive?
Beyond the forced smile and gentle laughs-
There is liberation, if you can see through the fog.
Though it swells and swirls everbearing the illusion of perfection,
we will wait until fragile bones cannot hold tight gripped teeth smiles,
or physical attributes never obtained by the the fighters of love.
For we will crawl tooth and nail. Bruised and aching, up to the knees of the careless.
When air that blows the breaths between words
reaches your cheek and warms the face
speaking in ways only the believers can hear
slowly and methodically like a drip in a tin can
and filling in the sound until it's pleasant.
For your negligence is uneasy to bare,
and your intelligence insulted by this irony.
Stare at screen, play with your phone so you don't have to live in this moment.
The ease of distraction can lull you into a comma.
Where has the time went? And when did the person by
your side become such a nuisance?
Goodbye to your love, and meaning of life.
The slander of your friend is enticing when not face to face.
To be a hermit, abstract and not deal with the problems,
is the way we will survive pathetically.
Behind the "smoke and mirrors" that we call "magazines and internet"
sad teenaged girls stop eating and we compare ourselves with that
which should never be compared.
Phantom images of what we looked like linger only in
misty black and white photographs in stale attics.
But oh, how that tormented ill reputed siren can seduce the likes of man.
No matter the chaos of his affairs, since it's a symphony of battered sadness.
To enjoy the company of loveless nights in fast forwarded motion.
In depth hope for the right moment to change the twisted and obscene.
While the stargazer waits, heart heavy, and holding onto lost breaths.
The treasures of the world couldn't turn us away.
Atmosphere bursting out intense waves of wanted solitude,
yet keys never completely out of grasp.
The user can wait, with sharp tongued lullabies until he is no longer needed.
A spiteful claim, but a tender reminder.
That there's no rest for the hopelessly wicked,
and vengeance highlighted.
When men are falling to their drone lifestyle never recognizing the full truth.
Because they are forced by devious items once inconceivable.
Hopeful survivors will be the only ones to move forward,
and for that, we must suffer the future burden of humanity's fall.
Then we will meet again among tall grasses and birds singing in chorus.
Tunes never heard off of a digital device.
The calm will remind us of who we were. Souls united. We will live in peace.
