I couldn’t become June Cleaver for you.
You couldn’t be Marcia Brady for me.
I tried to put that apron on
And learn to make a *** roast, but
You took a grudge and nourished it
And watched it thrive for 30 years
While I turned into a withered husk
In the desert of lost affection.

I wanted to be your special friend -
Your one safe place in a tempest.
I built strong walls and a comforting fire
You never set foot past the doorway.
The welcome mat was never pulled in
And a small light was always burning
But you were lost in a different place
And wouldn’t let me try to find you.
ljm

Are we just lonely trumpet flowers dangling
Sang an owl, on the hour, drawn from the stream
When all our hearts made the same offerings
We are pouring into each other's vessels
Muscles with memory select the kinetic chains
That bind our names to our destinies
Its the same as yesterday’s dismembering
Its a blessing to embody the fire
As if this desire is higher than anything
That you’ve ever seen apart from dreaming
So we listen closely for the logos to speak softly
After all it seems it's not so easy to imagine
The fathomless depths of our being
Until right before we need to step off the edge
And rest fully suspended in the breathless
We are the everyday magic of life
Actualizing itself while tired feathers fall asleep
Out of touch but still somehow within our reach

We adore the hour
Of enduring madness
We are crude and cruel
Like tigers in the morning
We are food for the gods
Who stayed too long
And strayed too far
From their solitary pantheons
We are the shadows of Psyche
Tirelessly shorn from our bodies
We are retired armies
These conglomerates of hatred
Fed up with feminine values
We are salivating angst
We are manic depressive virgins
Your coercion is comical
This is evil incarnate
Sardonic solitude shrouds You
In it's vision-less vicissitudes
We are used to being used
And fed ignorance like food
We are bored and longing
For some muscles to flex
So we could attest to our problems
I contest your victory
And seek meaning in expression
Anger is reflexive yet still we beg to differ
Our questions are rejected
By an authority we entrusted
To naively negate our egos
We collect puzzles and never solve them
We form alliances with psychedelic buffalo
And smile while meditating butterflies chart
Their ancient transmigration patterns
We are pinnacles of virtue in vitriolic prisons