Ignorance has become a new fashion: the dresses on the red carpet and the
Black mascara on the TV screen. We write things as epiphanies come,
While they are out there making fools of themselves in their transparent or
Nonexistent clothing and neon underwear.

I imagine all of the people in Tome Square, even though I have never been.
The daily routines and mechanical gossip about the ******* celebrities that run their lives
And the stench of portable hot dog carts. You are a numerator of what you could be.
Wake up... You're dreaming. Try harder, you can't run faster after you have
Stepped in quicksand. You are so stupid! Look ahead! Watch for things before they come,
You are too impulsive!ay attention to others for once, it is not all about you.
Truth has become a new fashion: faded jeans and thick sweatshirts. Those of us
Who understand and seek nothing from others;
They are not worth it.

The mere idea of your person
is a tonic, potent enough to intoxicate.
And intoxicated I will be
as long as your words
roll of your lips
and ring in my ears.
It's hard to say
but it's easy to feel:
all I want is you
and all I need is a chance.

A connection made is a chance for it to fail,
and some thing never loving is better
than taking the chance of losing love.
I could not disagree with these people more.
Perhaps they have never met someone like you
and perhaps they will never.
Perhaps they have never been drunk
off lust
or perhaps they refuse to alter their
state of consciousness enough
to allow lust to manifest itself
into a physical ache.
More than mental yearning,
I can feel it in my gut;
pulsing and pounding,
feeling its way to every corner of my body.

Perhaps the brandy is actually what's intoxicating me;
for every glass I drink
the pulsing becomes quicker,
the pounding becomes harder
and the feeling reaches parts of my body
I didn't know could feel.

We like to think we are hard to understand
Intricate mazes with twisting chaotic paths
Leading to numerous outcomes
Mysteries woven within our stories
Constantly changing and always anew
We like to believe we are elaborate structures
Constructs of pure ingenuity
Winding corridors with infinite knowledge
With mysterious doors holding plethoras of secrets
Darkened halls to shroud our true motives
Stairways up and down, leading anywhere and everywhere
We like to fool the world
Building these zig-zagging stories
Losing the truth the farther we burrow
Forgetting who we are in the labyrinths of our minds
Forever lost in what we have become
We lied to ourselves
With broken confidence, striving to be who we want
Rather than who we are
Living in a world of other grande designs
Trying to keep up against time itself
We doubted ourselves
Unable to look at the mirrors which spoke the most truth
Turning away and hiding in the lies we fortified around us
The barricaded conscience, locked away and ignored
Emotion took hold and there you sat
We all sat and wondered
Where would "I" fit in this broken world
Of towering deceptive motives
Glimmering pedestals of deceit
Trick rooms and evil men
We all asked ourselves "Where will I go"
When people see the place I've hidden myself away
Calling us out, asking to venture, deep through our halls
We felt simple opposed to the world
Far greater stories, fascinating, colorful
And our structures crumbled
And there we sat
Alone, where the world could see what we ignored in that mirror
But we understood
That Truth can set you free
Despite the lies we make ourselves believe
For simplicity is truth itself

she'll walk off
and you'll walk behind,
you feel like a man
and see everything in soft focus exposure
and her walking ahead, timid and feeling triumphant.
this was your first kiss
and not your last kiss
but your most important kiss;
the foundation kiss,
the scaffold kiss,
cathedral columns holding up the whispering gallery of this kiss.

or did you walk off
and she walked behind,
did she feel like a woman,
soft, warm, and kind seeing everything is a hard focus exposure?
that was her second kiss,
not her last kiss
and not her most important kiss;
it was a mill stone kiss,
a grist lipped ground-down-again kiss,
a motel-hotel-roadside chapel of cheap kisses kiss.

She walks in beauty, like the night
     Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
     Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
     Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
     Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
     Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
     How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
     So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
     But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
     A heart whose love is innocent!