The wait, the gait Of men divorced of meaning Betrays their state As pigeons stopped from preening A plaintive plea Is useless sophistry I never wanted to be questioned why I'm here, now Grey, and unmoved Twitching, unceasing The tension taut between Pain, unsoothed And loss, twice removed Normalized the fucking state of life Where the fog alludes To the internment of mind The interminable stay in a section of swaying thoughts And retorts I, I can't escape what's prophesied But I refuse to treat the wisdom as received Just because another life has felt reprieve Narcissistic terms, apologist conditions Strenuous in turn; constant atonal renditions Of unconscious whims, sung by damaged neural strings I can't help what I can't see But I don't presume what I could be I'd rather be alone, than leave a space for spacelessness I'd rather not intone, the morbid hymns of gracelessness I'd rather be alone, than be a space for spacelessness I'd rather not intone, the morbid hymns of gracelessness And stress A constant source of weakness Your hand, interned, immune to touch and life and burns You are not their progeny Even if you want to be I'd rather be alone, than leave a space for spacelessness I'd rather not intone, the morbid hymns of gracelessness I'd rather be alone, than be a space for spacelessness I'd rather die at home, than leave your face a sordid Mess I never wanted to be questioned why I'm here Now Pushing the envelope Punish the interloper Pressure our nascent joy to stray If I could write the beauty of your eyes (You are the pebbles that my self runs over) And in fresh numbers, number all your graces (You texture me - you move the way I move) The age to come would say "This poet surely lies (You bend my surface - you reshape my groove,) Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces." (Break the perfection of the rhythmed sliding surface of my heart) Faces Faces Faces Faces, unclean, they gleam With saline acceptance Phases, abrasive turns of phrases, like "life is a veil of tears."