Drinking hollow words from a hollow cup

You call me a cynic though I’m not arguing whether the glass is half full
Just pointing out not all the contents happen to be water

Giving the sword hilt first to my shadow only triumphs in gutting myself
Feeling a tad bit like Tantalus constantly grasping at straws
Always coming up short but never able to go under

Venture that fruit tingles the tongue bitter-sweet
Going in blind’s my stumbling block speak first think last

Clumsily running into walls because what’s two inches behind my heels
Is far more important than five feet from my face
Crafting kingdoms out of rock slides just to watch them crumble

Trying to head away with the fairies but too painfully observant
To drift away with the clouds but too easily swept afoot

Blisteringly blunt my mouth knows nothing but forward stutter
Spitting venom’s second nature but it burns just as bad when swallowed
Agonizingly apologetic knowing what I mean can’t cut the haze

The pesky smokescreen that conceals the landmines scattered
Always two steps ahead one step back