Melancholy memories make me muse
Perhaps I lost a piece of me when I lost you

And here we all go
staring at screens
trying to distract ourselves
from what it all means

I think that comedy is dead
and I don't say that because I think every funny person
just suddenly is not funny anymore
I think that people don't want to laugh anymore

we want to leer
whether in disgust, or fear, or some sick form of admiration
we want to rage against something
anything as long it promises to stand in our way

we make mountains out of mole hills
in order to spend our time knocking them down
we want somebody to make us cry
not because we want to be sad

because we want to feel like we're still alive
we are so afraid live
that we've become obsessed with dying
we shout deep into the void

hoping, (even if it's slightly) that no echo will return
we want to hate, we want to fear
because those emotions are raw and tangible
and they linger

what is a laugh
if but a minuscule flaw in the system
a seldom respite from the horrid lives we lead
an umbrella for the rain we so desperately want to drown in

It's easy to feel bad for cheating
even if it's only for a moment
every day we are told be angry, mad, upset, vigilant, vindictive
every day we are told
Comedy is dead

I would value you
I know you must have hard that a lot
and have grown accustomed
to it not being true

I know that trust is like a spotter
at the bottom of a ladder
and that you've been climbing Everest
and not the wall to a roof
so the comparison isn't apt
No I don't know anything you
and so my words ring hollower
than an Oak tree on a dry summers day

I would value you
not as price on a tag
but as a bird on a nest
because your presence makes being here
worthwhile
and when you're keen to fly away
please heed my plea that's true
I Promise I would value you

Is the grass still green?
Are the skies still blue?
Will every road I used to take
Slowly lead me back to you?