Years have passed since I've known this
ostensible happiness
unshaken by otherwise
and unable to feel lackluster
ready to explain beguiled
every time some one else is more loud
Maybe I should contain my inertia
years passing without activity
And maybe I should contain mayhem
direct every ugly thing towards me
distance myself from the subtlety of splendor
ruminate on disfigurment and dimentia
erase every beautiful thing...but then there's you
sweet and divine and, and just so
so convincing that all I think or know is pretty
No comments:
Post a Comment