Bitter be; bitter me.
Stricken and mangled
by thoughts.
Bombed and bullied
through their circuits of
lies.
Can it be the days
that cease my amusement?
Marginal diminishing utility
in the quotient of
happiness and
rotations of the Earth?
Or is it the shadows
that cloud my judgment?
Ringing signs of death
that we bare not lead to ponder.
Being alive;
an object called
hope
that yields will
to puncture opportunity.
Infertile as such
the word
gazes to the stars
and gives
only a glance back
to jest.
Digress and flatter
for this meaningless laughter
you see before you is
life.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 1:35 AM UTC
Bitter be; bitter me.
Stricken and mangled
by thoughts.
Bombed and bullied
through their circuits of
lies.
Can it be the days
that cease my amusement?
Marginal diminishing utility
in the quotient of
happiness and
rotations of the Earth?
Or is it the shadows
that cloud my judgment?
Ringing signs of death
that we bare not lead to ponder.
Being alive;
an object called
hope
that yields will
to puncture opportunity.
Infertile as such
the word
gazes to the stars
and gives
only a glance back
to jest.
Digress and flatter
for this meaningless laughter
you see before you is
life.