the colors have faded
so it's time for a new coat
to cover the disgust,
the angst, how i'd gloat
about the ideas i'd had
when they weren't mine
and how i made them
into something out of time
out of mind
and into this sectionalized analysis on what was, is, and has yet to be.

i'd been pushed in line
with the rest
standing ground
wasn't a test
it was the norm
and proved
hold on,
the line's moved.

twisted words turn into twisted people
as they run around trying to seem well
and when they're twisting themselves more and more;
and when they unwind, slowly and vapidly,
they all start to hit the floor.

the bottle slid down to the floor so long ago,
but you were the only one who were to ever know
the reason i'd twisted the truth so much into a lie;
the reason i'd twisted what you saw, languidly,
through your twisted eyes.

as we all fell out in our fallout shelters
our twisted lives all, in an instant, began to welter
to the corkscrew sound waves coming out now;
to the corkscrews and corks lying about, sadly,
because we were all gonna die here, someway, somehow.

observed in
our empty lots,
there's still the time
to plot
our demises in the eyes
of our own ****** lovers
as they slowly begin
in catching
our drifting lies
that we've so carefully hidden
throughout
our over-planned
and our over-justified
senseless lives.
yet, we give them
a purpose
for the time that we fill
with self-dulling
ideas
and our own
revelations
of this
idealistic fantasy.
we've only fantasized for fun.

observed in
our empty lots,
italicthere's still the timeitalic
to plot
our demises in the eyes
of our own ****** lovers
italicas they slowly beginitalic
in catching
our drifting lies
that we've so carefully hidden
italicthroughoutitalic
our over-planned
and our over-justified
senseless lives.
italicyet, we give themitalic
a purpose
for the time that we fill
with self-dulling
italicideasitalic
and our own
revelations
of this
italicidealistic fantasy.italic
we've fantasized for fun.

as you sit drooling
and see you're pulling
any strings you can
to make your stand
as you sit staring
at the tv, glaring
back at you
in the dull blue
light it's reflecting
the sublime it's protecting
as your brain melts
and the radio star belts
another song to your ear
but you still can't hear
the true calling in your name
and no need to feel ashamed;
you're not to blame.  
you're broken; nothing to claim;
gone to the wrong side of lame.

was he what you'd dreamed?
were you dreaming?
what'd you find when you awoke?
are you still in that lucid state?
how did you not wake up during the thunderstorm?

it rained all night and crashed in all around us, and you just slept right through the whole thing, without the slightest clue about what was true, what i knew, and what you still had to choose.