at what point does it all become
moot,
again.
and fade into the backdrop of timeless pastels
mixed beyond recognition,
too civilized to disturb
meanwhile, the fury rages
beneath
where no one can see

the canon of tosses
no one would bear
against the ageless scrutiny of perfection,
dancing around semantics
laughing into the night air
yet, no one would pull on the window
while whistling for stars

I'd rather you blurt out the truth
scream if you have to,
just do what you need
to make me believe
you meant what you thought you said,
that you're more than a polite excuse
chopping days off
somebody's endless dream...

08/15/2009

Posted on 08/16/2009
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