Our Fragile Egos Remain Outright

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Our fragile egos remain outright
Yet still free – not compelled by those
In the trenches we find disaster
Inspired to richly & sullenly compose

How do we heal? How do we grow?
Absorbing vibrations & her headspace blues
Redefinition of cool among the vulnerable
Rising morale since she turned off the news

Erratic dreams of dismantling love
The early signposts to the apocalypse
Gentle rise becomes glaring to our eyes
Summer mornings feel fresh on our nips

Ground control to juxtaposed fallacies
Squandering purest moments we’ll know
With no intention to rattle a dull saber
Paradise; when I only wanted a cup of joe

It’s A Sparse Paradise These Days

It’s a sparse paradise these days

Feeling another season coming on

Not supposed to feel like this

At least that’s the way we’ve been drawn

She’s still the poor pretty rich girl

Never could get off the same page

Repeated struggles to survive

Tripping on my lines; a vapid stage

Reality is an emotion detached from my soul

You never needed everyone to love you

Instilled confidence to merely exist

Forethought is a luxury that might just be true

Transcripts of the past’s failures

We’ve learned, but not out of society’s grip

False starts & then some

Rising, but we’re still not quite hip