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#1
Untitled (Lovers Turn Into Monsters)

Lovers turn into monsters at the loss of all affection
Almost like it was the affection that kept them from being monsters
And I could have used some warning
I was on that porch all morning
Smoking cigarettes and sinking deeper into doubt

Could it be I am mistaken, have I stolen somebody’s baby?
Is it possible for two people to need the same thing?
It's just the lines, they get so blurry
Between what is wanted and required
And I don't know on which side his heart falls
But I know where mine is buried
And it's so far from any wanting
Yeah, it needs this to keep beating
It won't go on without it

If I'm still weighed down with subtleties
Then I'll just come right out and say
That I think that I deserve her
More than anyone deserves anything
Maybe I am selfish, but there is no way to share this
There’s not enough to go around, I don’t care who else gets hurt

But I’m still sick with empathy because I was stood in his place
I spent a year quietly dying while you let go and ignored her
And I’m sure that there are reasons for everything that happens
And absence leads to adoration, yeah it’s nobody’s fault

But now there is no way to change this
So I just photographed and framed it
And it’s hanging in a hallway
That we have no right to walk back down

But I hope that he feels better but I’m sick of all the drama
I can’t stand to see her crying, I just want this **** to end
And I want a place to hang out where a record player’s playing
And there’s a thousand movies rented for a thousand nights with her


The Absurdist

The time and place of no choice to conform
nor bear in purpose opposing end and them;
within the penance of contemplation,
where I chose fit to doubt you-
rejoice is the will, my will
the uneven intellect.
Have pity,
or the way in which ,
for the hopeless spirit

and your so called problems;

where is your god now
looking soul, this,
for old men?
Marching around the golden column
refrained from any laughter
at four o’clock in the morning:
allow but a little elegance
ineffably, and time is restored.

“Up, move and quickly” spoke
the restless Captain.
But all was a painful loss,
for now we see through
the bow and balance.
The vacant river wherein
the brown land, refines by fire
the untamed chariot-
sure and certain it’s greater
than either faith or hope.