Our Imperfect Existence
Whisper to me endlessly, drunk
On a strange concoction of
brazen reality and truth
Dignify the death of the
hideous esse,
that was a sore sight for eyes
And run out in the streets
naked,
Just as you were the day you came here.
Scribble love ballads on
deserted streets
Paint every door with graffiti
proclaiming your insanity;
For only the insane
live life without metal chains
snapped across their neck,
Not being,
branded as civilized beings
bearing several witnesses-
Culture, Religion, Politics
Nothing more than mere pretense,
Nothing more than pawns.
Feel the little things
And breathe in their ferocity
And their existence will enshrine yours
Being complimentary to your insanity.
Hum melodies,
For the bulbs that flicker every night,
Always dying, but never dead.
For the strands of hair that
curl indefinitely,
For the rum whisked down in a breath
That spewed melodies in
raspy whispers of death,
For the overgrown climber across the wall
That grew to the rust
and dusty bones of nightfall.
And your melodies,
rejoicing our imperfect existence,
will be carried by the west wind
And reach my ears as a whisper,
drunk on our existence- raw and unrefined.
Whisper to me endlessly, drunk
On a strange concoction of
brazen reality and truth
Dignify the death of the
hideous esse,
that was a sore sight for eyes
And run out in the streets
naked,
Just as you were the day you came here.
Scribble love ballads on
deserted streets
Paint every door with graffiti
proclaiming your insanity;
For only the insane
live life without metal chains
snapped across their neck,
Not being,
branded as civilized beings
bearing several witnesses-
Culture, Religion, Politics
Nothing more than mere pretense,
Nothing more than pawns.
Feel the little things
And breathe in their ferocity
And their existence will enshrine yours
Being complimentary to your insanity.
Hum melodies,
For the bulbs that flicker every night,
Always dying, but never dead.
For the strands of hair that
curl indefinitely,
For the rum whisked down in a breath
That spewed melodies in
raspy whispers of death,
For the overgrown climber across the wall
That grew to the rust
and dusty bones of nightfall.
And your melodies,
rejoicing our imperfect existence,
will be carried by the west wind
And reach my ears as a whisper,
drunk on our existence- raw and unrefined.
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