Time doesn't take away the tears,
Or words could never express,
What you've meant throughout these years.

Even though its been quite long since you went away,
I still miss you,
And in my heart you'll always stay.

I've chosen to be happy
amidst the burning living
amidst the piling dying

I've chosen to be grateful
amidst the fruitless toiling
amidst the unending paths

I've chosen to be pretty
amidst the narrowing crowds
amidst the constant shaming

I've chosen to be blinded
in favor of the brightness
in favor of easy lives

I've chosen to be heartless
in favor of my success
in favor of acceptance

I choose to be ignorant
I choose to be happier
I choose the conventional

I choose the society
that has raised me, and made me
I choose the society
that hates me and always will
I choose the society
that tells me it's my own choice
I choose the society
that holds me, imprisons me
I choose the society
that has killed and buried me

and told me that all is well

Envelopes and elevator music can explain
Why we clutch our horror and flee our name
A watchtower and alarm clock sang their lament
Across the concrete we rejoice and the paradise we repent
And as we signed
we denounced allies
In favor of the forbidden
what artificial blood and absinthe love
could deduce the lies we've hidden?


Mistletoe in the greenery of late july
and honor's punch drunk alibi
Reinvent the wheel that streets had broken
but its all another poker deal
a bet from the same token
Why do we abhor the delight to adore
what is written across the table?
If we read it as love we read it as a fable
and who still gives a **** about Cain and Abel?

Forgive my verse I tend to curse and my pentameter could benefit from consistency
But pardon your barometer I never intended to study calculus or chemistry
The commodity of obscenity and the gardens of Versailles
It's not a question then of who or when but rather a matter of how and why?
We buy and slash with words and cash all of those we enable
Why not, my love, give whiskey and drugs it's honestly more stable

The aftertaste of lust and lace
Grim fairy tales and telephone sales
The absence of the rhythm
That transforms mere words to singing
but format this or format that that isn't a life worth living
The morning connives with sidewalks and vines
while dark eyes sit and stare we are but wine and air
What is this routine we have fought to acquire?
No sweet perfume can sweeten the flame of fire

so kiss you reflection and hold close to the glass or the mirror
Objects that appear far away
they may in fact be nearer