Can I miss your information,
take my silence as a jest
of misguidance, indignation,
a riot in my chest.
See the fumes
they're rising up
above the mountains
and the mist.
Taste the nasty,
acrid smell
that settles on your lips.
It's the essence,
it's the patriarch,
it's what you thought
your wish.
Yet, in the gloomy
light of day,
it's just another
rancid fish
that washed up
on the shore
of a much-polluted lake
that someone in the distance
saw as beauty by mistake.
Oh, don't tell me
you don't get it
god, you never ever did
I'm the reason you remember
that you forgot
to live.
It's the journey,
it's the silence
can't you taste
the smell of love
the feeling of the violence
you mistook as god above.
I'm not sorry
that the feeling
is the worst
in light of day,
would it be better
to feel nothing
and have it all just go away?
Or to remember that
the silence
was in fact unjustly loud
the reverberance of violence
that permeated through the crowd
the indignation of a feeling
that you can't describe, yet
somehow, you stand there shaking
the anger turned to pain
a silence in the making
the rasp of a forgotten name
Throw your arms up
surrender
tell me truly,
what is real?
Would it really be so awful,
to just admit exactly
how you feel?
I can see it in your muscles
I can feel it in your scowl
as we trample over
nothing but the
silence
of the sound
tell, please, I dare you
Do you finally, get it now?
No comments:
Post a Comment