Honesty is a luxury... but not many people would buy it.
The view of the end of your own nose costs more than most know.
Up in the air or down at your toes, your soul see's something you do not.
Honesty is a luxury... but not many people would buy it.
Throwing lies into a game of heads or tails, setting your values so low.
Naivety and cynicism is the road sought.
Honesty is a luxury, but its not something you willing bought.
Stop the charade, just own your facade, those people you fooled, in your lies they did the rot.
Festering and lingering, your words of false they did hear...forget the person you did once appear.
honesty is a luxury that many people would not buy.
that's why you're still here, because most believe the lie.

these emotions,
they don't run deep.
as pointless as rain falling in the sahara,
never enough to penetrate the mass of barren surface.
like puddles scattered on pavement,
never to be absorbed through the thick stone.
these emotions,
they're not connected.
as pointless as trying to tie down a cloud,
never enough substance to catch the thing you desire.
like a lost grip on a helium balloon,
never to find its way back to the ground.
these emotions,
they're hollow.
drilling holes that remain empty.
these emotions,
they are shallow.

October 3, 2013 at 1:22am

So maybe I still miss you,
but apathy is the way I want to feel towards you;
I want the ache in my chest to diminish,
to be completely extinguished in a quick fleeting moment.
But it’s more like erosion,
only washing away the most miniscule amount at a time.
Decreasing the pain in the tiniest of amounts,
taking decades and centuries of
wind,
light,
and rain
to morph it into what I desire it to be,
without any distinguished timeline.
Just natural causes that move uncontrollably along,
constantly irritating,
festering,
and ripping
the scab of the wound in awkward moments of solitude.
**I’m a slave to the tormenting low burning throb.