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 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 rejected By an authority we entrusted To naively negate our egos We collect puzzles and never solve them We form alliances with psychedelic buffalo While meditating butterflies chart Their ancient transmigration patterns We are pinnacles of virtue in vitriolic prisons We administer to the needs of the ordinary soldier We are shouldering too much responsibility For if you were entrusted with love Then please don't abuse it We are bundles of wood Woven together like fragile tapestries We are strategies unused We are moody lovers confused by each otherβs apathy Our lack of touch erupts into violent volcanoes Spewing fumes in our bedrooms We are ****** handed Balancing on our fingertips While plummeting a thousand feet To the bottom of endless seas We are cheap like sheet-rock and shelves Upended in an earthquake We are all that we tell each other We are purely made from stories Defending our allegorical right to exist We are so ******* boring That our own made-up gods Can do nothing but laugh At the infinite ignorance of our species We are a genus of ingenious desperation Who gave measurement such an important trophy That we are beyond permanently broken And can now fatefully begin authentically working On fixing our sights, minds, hearts Hands and bodies upon uniting With our deepest spiritual longing I gave up stroking my ego a long time before I met you Whatβs next will you expect me to beg for your indulgence We are making amends for the ways We dissected our reality It's a tragedy that the objectification of objects Leads to a such a Complex Elegance: These isolated sediments are perplexed at our own self-vehemence
What a way to begin The end of our undoing Begs for our compassion We are not allowed to forget So we go to sleep And whenever we awake You immediately take Our breath away To protect against The faintest chance Or hint of our remembering