you've never told me how you felt
in any form of honesty
when i asked was for you to honestly
explain yourself after it all happened
but you'd just left me in ignorance.
so, i sat down and worked it all out
and i came up with a few things
that i'm beginning i actually know
about what it is you really want
and how to get it all for you.
there's some things i have to ask of you
before i can start fulfilling your wishes
before they've filled you with hope
of the empty desires we've discussed
that you've been complaining about
in your own sublime ways;
and, subliminally, have changed my thought pattern.

my goddess dies each dawn
with the rising of the sun
and is reborn; renewed
in the sick, slighted
mannerism she awakens.

even with noticeable differences
the sky projects her face
as she lightens my burdens
and burdens my nights
with her glowing.

this shining has come for time
that it's been needed
where i've stood; judged
for the sinful mannerism
of my paganism.

but you're lost in the twilight;
daydreaming
in the middle of the night
that day will break the dark
and again, you'll see.

i've never needed any light
for my goddess is here;
she's been for ages
and she will be
once i'm gone.

welcomed to the idea, once again
by the cool calling that lead me,
barely heard, and hardly felt,
yet, still coercing enough for this.
so i decided to attempt it,
again.
an attempt made at nothing,
when reality says it was something,
as i digress, it was nothing,
and again, it was something
though i'll never name it
what it should be called
because it has a
name.
aspirations brought about
by perspiration and an inclination
that, again, it would be okay
to try and make sense of something
that i've wanted before
and want again.

quickly through your head
and out of your mouth
before you know what's said
it's that punk rock n' roll
rotting your soul.

again it's blasting sounds
that scream my name
and my anguish
it's that punk rock n' roll
rotting my soul.

gaining ground inside
where no ground's held
holding onto something
it's that punk rock n' roll
rotting the soul.

from the inside, outside
its making its way
through the holes
that punk rock n' roll
rotted in the soul.

you can't possibly think i've been that mislead
by the simple words and excuses you've used.
for one reason or another, you continue,
and i'm feeling my kindness is abused.
i'm not one to really speak up much,
and really say how it is i feel.
but you need a reality check,
because nothing you say is real.

you keep pushing what's the truth as false
and the falsehoods i find to be quite real,
and it's beginning to make me really question,
whether or not you have the sensation to feel.
and if you do, i'm sure it's not prevalent,
for i've known the way you've said you've felt.
and as you pass through life in line,
how's that ride on the conveyor belt?

you're bound for an end, similar to all else's,
and you're bound to be quietly disappointed
in the mass amount of disappointment
you're only bound to find that's been anointed
into the fabrics, frayed and torn of your being.
but i know there's not much hope left,
that what you're really feeling at all
is nothing but a spacious cleft


**in your heart.

it amazes me how you're so contained
in the little box; ******* where you reign
over the kingdom within your head
never realizing you're bound to be dead
one day sooner than later; we all have to
but these are all thing i thought you knew.

so i guess i'll spoon feed you this abstract thought
because of the lackadaisical ideas, you rot
in the putrid ways of pointing out my faults
when yours are the one that've brought you to halt
before the gates where you must truly invade
and these are no places for you to persuade
me
of my own flaws.

i've made a list
and i know them well.

as you whined
for the climb
got only harder
so you'd barter
your soul
with the devil
to try and make it
when you'd fake it
in the silence of it all
and the wavering call
to the shores far away
as they'd always say
you'd belonged in another land.  far from this one.  you were lost out here, wandering aimlessly toward whatever you thought there was a purpose in.