Stay away from me,
And leave me to pick up the pieces in the weeds.
These days are seasons divided and hung for high treason,
Believe you me, I cannot fathom a reason,
There is a crow tapping at my chamber doors,
A madness building to fleeting feet nevermore.
Allow me lay upon the bathroom floor,
and rub my weary face forevermore,
This life is measured in movie score,
Like a cameo actor shaking the audience to its core,
leaving them speechless and wanting more.
An applause held, until the sounding of bells,
At least they all have a story to tell.
This mind shifts like the wind in the reeds,
And burns rapidly like an orient napalm catastrophe,
Oh God, is this the last of me,
Or can I sit by the sea and eat chowder,
And forget the lies the prouder,
As they pound their chests louder and louder,
With money stacked tall like towers.
Is there still time for second chances and sentiments,
Or is it all buried under Holocene and cement?
It’s all a social club of reckless abandonment,
Is there nothing said that’s meant, or is it all farce and lament?
I am nothing more than a beggar diving in fountains for cents
So, I can count my numbered days before lent.
Always transfixed by passersby and the twinkle in their eyes,
And their seductive wink that covers a multitude of lies.
A paranoia this frame cannot shake, until my death and wake.
This mind replays my efforts made in days of yesterday,
But are only memories captured in picture books bound in lace
Lord let this soul slip quietly without a trace,
And hold me tight until death’s embrace.