Kisses of immense affection
Not for young loving couples
But a deeper salvation of self-medication
There is no dignity to be found in this weary tale of devotion
An overwhelming enslavement where "repent" is a foul word
White plains. Fields of immeasurable moments
A crimson stream in a trail that leads to a ship of fools
The female forlorn. Agendas of cruelty
Broken bits of hope, of dreams and vanities
The pieces of a puzzle. Flesh in the corner of the eye
Vanished moments still immeasurable
Still depicted in the frame of the mind
Your lover, your inamorata is deception
When you cry, where's your "God"?
Bite the hand that feeds
Sever those fingers, tear those limbs
Endlessly, this pseudo-love is naught
It is but affliction and a desire for a greater need
Transfixed by promise of a light
But there is no fluorescence at the end of the tunnel
Green moors. A lavish vista where horizons die
The crimson stream still runs
And the agendas of cruelty still bites (still cries)
Certitude is your fall
So easy it would be to let go, to die now
Leave, and never come back to the rest
Just scattered pieces. Darkness and stars
Illumination and shadows. Thoughts of grandeur and overconfidence
Board the ship of fools. Hoist and set sail for predictability
End - in a haze your mind goes down the drain
Witness yourself in here
Picture the embarrassment of all your friends and your kin
Don't claim you do not care
Ring the bell of righteousness. Hear it toll!
Reproach yourself
Weed the weakness in your breast and your soul
Salvation is deception
Tension builds. Lassitude
A mirage so elusive
Virtue dismal. Affection dead
Here ends this grievance
Here you rest in damp soil
There's no one mourning
Nothing that suggests that no one ever cared