Fake Souls

In this hyper materialist era
We find ourselves in
Is there such a thing as a true soul?

Or have we all become
Nothing but fake souls
The rights to our souls
Long ago sold

To the evil masters of the universe
The secret programmers
Of this cosmic video game
We all live in

And our dear leader
Donald Trump
Has a fake soul

As he acts like he is robot
Trying to fake real human emotions
And usually failing miserably

I knew that the happiness wouldn't last
I knew that I would do something to ***** it up
What I didn't know was how fast things would change
One moment I couldn't wipe that stupid smile off my face
I was laughing, having fun
The next moment I lost everything
Crying nonstop
All because of the stupid mistakes I made
No one realizes how much I hate myself

you hold my hand and tell me later
I just need a friend right now
which is genuinely okay because realistically we both have issues
but darling i think that you need to understand,
going around holding people’s hands,
it’ll get you in trouble one day

stop being so stubborn and listen to your mother
for once, she just wants what’s best for you
by the way, tell her we aren’t a thing
because you know
I don’t think I want a relationship

but on the other hand
oh yeah, hands
Interlocked fingers are to be saved for
the girl that you’re waiting on
she’s out there somewhere

Today I am riddled with question.
My mind races like jets through the sky looking to achieve super sonic speeds
I find myself craving your touch
wanting to revel in your thoughts.
And sit quietly in your company
The small Creases under your eyes
As your lips pull back into a smile
Just moments before a soft laugh breaks free from your lips.
I found you beautiful
And desire to learn all of the beautiful things about you.

I'm not going anywhere
We can work things out
We always do
This only makes us stronger

Was it you spinning vinyl
In that 3rd floor apartment in New York
Walls close, a small space
You’re wrapped up in my sweater
And singing songs I knew once
To her and her angel face
While leaves paint the pavement outside

Or was it you shouting
In that rally on the streets of suburbia
Last fall, the rain fell forever
But you were brave wrapped in my sweater
Chanting with the big crowd
The air smelled like kettle corn
And the people on the street sides cheered

It couldn’t have been you
On the cold bathroom floor in Seattle
Cold sweats, pupils dilated
My sweater pulled over your sequin dress
Vinyl record song
                Skipping
                Skipping
                Skipping
                in the background
How you looked like disco ball
Shattered on the floor that day

It may have been you buying coffee
Across the taxi tracks in Brooklyn
Americano, extra shot
The city bubbling over like shaken soda
Smiling like the day I gave you that sweater
Broken as the disco ball on the floor
Spinning the vinyl I bought you in suburbia

Mama said there’s no more
cowboys in the west
Just lizard men
with monsters on their chest
No more southern belles
just slimy sugar snakes
Smearing their lips with fish scales
to taste like cake

Mama said there’s no more
cowboys to ride into the dawn
Just scattered limbs passed out
in the front lawn
No cupcake women
hosting great soirées
Just frightened deer
that stare into the grey