It's almost sweet, the way she says
"Oh, no, we're not dating."
But all the while, a wink, a smile,
and over the lines we're skating
that separate a dinner from a date,
until she restates:
"Oh, no, we're not together."

But neither have we, since the start,
ever really been apart.

There's so much more that we could be,
but instead, I just hear you say
the same things again,
  and again,
and
    again
until possibly we find a day
when we come to believe
that the words on your heart
match the ones on your lips,
which you've repeated
until they became true.

With vainglorious dedication
the hoards are tasked feverishly
theirs is to conjure black clouds
and stain crystal clarity to faults
a five year old would see the futility
the dunce will laugh at the idiocies
as kid-adults lose dignity and integrity
morphing  from stale acrid cocoons
into fetid common o'garden bullies
the cheap devoid of senses et decorum

Their gods look on in petulant  glee
the goddesses smirk in Medusian imbue
the serpents gloats in victorious contagion
God restates I made them all as noble beings
darkness claims minds and souls as easy as ha!
morals to boot tis easier to court damnation
than take pride in the worthiness of beings

Thus relieved of reasoning and sanity
our hoards in discolored inglorious shame
toil all hours exhuming odious fantasies
sharing sediments of their demoralized stains
worshiping beliefs of fanging to pollute clarity
as if wholesome eyes are blind and discernment amiss
anodyne force feeding by anodynes for cretins
who assimilates the ravings of the contemptibles'
or buy into the sham displays of the malicious unfurnished
asinine devotees that believe all waters are drinkable
and reasoning and critic is shared equally in equal measures