Thursday, October 31, 2013

Translation Pending

Love is meaning
I find it entreating
Like an employee meeting
And the stale chips we're eating

Verses go against the grain
Tense pressure on my brain

I hate poets, honestly
Telling me how to do my job
It's not that they are snobs
It's just that they are better

Sometimes it's four o' clock
Then I look and see it's five
But it was seven all along
PM not AM

Boring, until you realize
It's about advil
Popping addicts
Pain is cool

Substance doesn't always need
A stain that goes away
Just something to sustain it
Art doesn't always make sense
Otherwise it would bore me

The game is the middle part
Not the start or the end
The bad dice rolls are the best
Pressure cooking, man

I'm sure you're lost
We all are
It's the human condition
Though that sounds like an ailment

There's a story in my eyes
But you aren't a reader
Doesn't stop you from looking
You caveman, you

Being random has its caveats
People call you weird
But they call
So there's that

There's a train running through my head
But I keep losing track
The conductor gives me coal
But I'm low on steam

Rivers keep bears fed with fish
But they wind me up
They've become time addled
Riddled with cliche

I want to tangle
Find me an obtuse angle
I need perspective
Make it inside, introspective

Any form of cohesion is coincidental.
Maybe that's why progress seems so incremental.