F*, I'm so bad at this lyrical translation
With Rhyming words a  fabrication
Spews fourth from my mouth to screen
No mind or hand- or medium between.
Just thoughts unadulterated raw
Unconsciously weild with grammatical awe

To let a group of strangers down
Is to know beneath fake  smiles
Scowls their collective frown
As their evenings I defile.

How it hurts my heavy heart
To see their disappointment stain
The magic out of pursuing art
As it happens once again.

And worst of all, too well I know
That the change in hopeful eyes
Will come on stronger than before  
As we inwardly despise.

One thing I can show you-
As if my love understands, or could do,
All of the things that the happy people knew,

The lessons we teach, are taught back to us too.

I won't know you again, right on by my side,
As my dreams whirlpool,  we're pulled under riptides
May I find, and then loose, you on this earthly ride-

May you glimpse my real pain, on this final bedside.

The alarm tolls,
On their rude device-
It's time for work
& yet still, despite
the thousand fascets
of one reality
These
middle-aged
Half-life(s),
These Newbrunswickin Chavs
Wouldn't recognize, really,
That Despite
the riddle's answer, Being  E;
& that double decade,
One might have over me,

When direct
Questions
go unanswered; The respect
I require
(now unvield)
Shapeshifts,
Off, into the past
Oh, how I  become

The Whip

Ruthlessly;
they crack
The Whip                        
& with
All that I am,

the past, In desperation, I forcefully trick
As the blackness, of my being
Forms a darkness,  spilling thick.
Engulfing light- mind's eye's Unseeing,  
Consumes oneself, like a candles wick -
Illuminating every route (for fleeing)
For me, the lights still on- homesick.

Forcefully, faithfully; to keep on believing, & even

just to keep the pathway lit-  by headlight, sunbeam, or doomscrolling trip-
Understand why might a human being
'S now become The Whip

Empty smell-
hate that you
need more

you feel
the bad days away;

and forget the point.

Sad boy- have you grown into a now sad man?
or maybe,  perhaps, as  young adult you now stand.
the point I'm making  is that we still can
with both flattery and deviation, unsynchronized corotation,
evolve:

Through this site I've gained a lot, mind a reading's worlds now written thoughts;
I know it's too easy,
when our own lives we ruin,
Just don't give up- on yourself,
Can you deduce what I'm doing?

A part of me died last night-
Swallowed by deep shadows,
A Prestidigitator's Rite-
Conjures  woeful wet tomorrows.

Oh,

Little Black Death, a part of me;
How my soul it now does borrow,
Still
I'm not what I wanted to be
All I've become's known sorrow.

Now its over, No more feeling,
Nothing left - to believe in

Youth without youth, 70's child,
No longer 'them' but 'us'
Disguised in a cipher's hidden truth
how inconspicuous.

This is a cruel place-
the world in which we struggle;
Yet it's beautiful.

To hear the priceless sounds,
No medicine competes.
In the rhythms, I am bound
In success or in defeat.
through the tolling of the time-
With those quickening beats,
The sound invokes with clever rhyme
both privilege and a treat:

Light and easy, peaceful and bright,
Or Insidious, sinister, audio plight.
Sorrow, hatred; loss and gain
Drugs and *** and love and pain.
From Intro to Chorus, to Verse-Refrain
melodies tattooed deep in the brain;

Act as the sun, when it does rain
And as both dirt and soap, when life does stain.

Summon up the courage
keeping up the cover
A Minefield of memory,
I see you uncover
Irrationality implosion -
Energetically, explosion.

Do you really think,
in our realities
that a happiness
love,  might continue?

When emotions are temporary
& feelings too fleeting  
Listen
when I announce my selfishness.
Listen,
as I manipulate.

In the darkness of nighttime black
We reflect as we react:
To the lives which we must lead
Desperate dreams demanding plead
That to thyself, always be true
Denials strong, but truth is too
So, To my friend who fears they lack
Worry not of times to come-
with diamond hearts, of spades, club's Jack-
Yes, awful can be some.
Yet Wonderful it is to know
despite a life of glass,
  the best times of our lives, indeed,
  Still have yet to pass.