Decision making,
eyes shaking,
earth quaking,
life taking,
high staking,
things that we love.
Things that we love,
they're better when they're free,
some love expensive,
some love subjective
none love objective
limited,
their love,
intangible,
their love.
Their love, intangible.
How to get it,
who knows.
Who knows,
if we suppose that we all have a heart.
Does everyone feel the same beat?
Do we notice when we're frozen?
Is there a doctor to tell us we have trouble,
The Doctor is here,
"Paul Reever,
have you any fear?
They say you speak ill things
they see your need for belonging."
Da Vinci is here,
"I opened you up,
the human heart should be soft,
tender,
warm.
Your heart is hard,
cemented,
cold."
The Priest is here,
"Demented,
legion receiving
fiend with insides screamin'.
60% water,
a human is,
60% evil,
your being within."
Knock, knock,
my name is dark,
what a shame to claim the fame of pride
insane it drives
bee hives done with lives
sharp knives fill the night skies
flying down when it rains
ending your pain with a strange
bolt of lightning
worth the sight seeing
it's enticing
that all this writing
is enough to stop the fighting
my imagination,
if it were to come true,
perhaps a better ending would start befriending
the sense of purpose
so condescending lack of vending
when it comes to sending
red lips
dismissed
Love,
they say.
Humans get away.
Portrayed with materialism,
all of it is grim.
