It is getting to four in the morning,
and so I will end this transmission.
I have conceeded all my ambition,
all inhibition,
to the paradise plain
of gothic symbols
and gossip counters;
trading secrets for status,
whilst painting the nails
of their foe.
The time is getting stupid now,
punch-drunk on half-sobriety;
unsure what is sense
and what is misery.
I have chosen revision over animation,
going over the same information,
in the uncertain elaboration
of passed-on wisdom,
of facts learned by force,
and not by a cognitive transition.
It is getting too late to talk like this.
These words fall apart,
to old dreams; I'll relive.
I wish you a kindness,
and I'll wake you in the morning.
I will play to you a pop song,
and whisper traffic warnings.
You take your sleep
and you shelter within,
this is your marbled existence,
this is freedom from sin.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
It is getting to four in the morning,
and so I will end this transmission.
I have conceeded all my ambition,
all inhibition,
to the paradise plain
of gothic symbols
and gossip counters;
trading secrets for status,
whilst painting the nails
of their foe.
The time is getting stupid now,
punch-drunk on half-sobriety;
unsure what is sense
and what is misery.
I have chosen revision over animation,
going over the same information,
in the uncertain elaboration
of passed-on wisdom,
of facts learned by force,
and not by a cognitive transition.
It is getting too late to talk like this.
These words fall apart,
to old dreams; I'll relive.
I wish you a kindness,
and I'll wake you in the morning.
I will play to you a pop song,
and whisper traffic warnings.
You take your sleep
and you shelter within,
this is your marbled existence,
this is freedom from sin.
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