Liar, Liar, Pants on FireHere he goes wearing his disguise, Mister debonair, with those fragile blue eyes. I’ve had my share of his foolish reality, and talk of his dedication that he swears to me. Our circle conversationsLiar, Liar, Pants on Fire
always seem to land on tomorrow’s possibilities. But I finally understand the actual probabilities, as I am finally able to see that tomorrow’s an empty word he sings back to me, full of promises blurred.
6:03The sun’s setting, and its last rays creep between cheap, plastic shades and the scent of turpentine and tears shakes the joy from the room.6:03
But this time, I'm keeping my smile.
You give me your sermon
on the hand life's so tragically dealt you,
how you had to leave your dreams and desires
on the pavement, abandoned, shattered.
But this time, it’s falling on deaf ears.
Conscience worn, eyes on the door,
you took your skeletons from your closet
and packed them up to carry along. Standing in front of me, you wait for “stop.”
But this time
Good MorningThe sun, rising, leaves behind A sudden surge of pink that lines my mind, stinging, sticking like nicotine hatching an addictionGood Morning
ready to consume the day. Naiveté’s taught me to never let my feet drag across the ground carrying clumps of dirt with me like luggage slowly piling around my feet weighing me down. Maybe it's just me but lately it seems people are just cutting their personalities to this year's fashions; they walk around like paper dolls, all different but all essentially the same. How could it be vision is so sk
Pretty girlPink and neon magazines decoratively Litter the hard wood floor. I stand With a cold metal spoon in hand Staring it down acquisitively Trying to determine whether To thrust it down my throat or Senselessly beat my face into sores Watching any sense of beauty wither Until I have become as obscene As I want to be.Pretty girl
The more that I want beauty The more I want to rebel against it And slowly twist and destroy it like its my given duty. Tell me frankly, without hesitation Would you still speak to my face when its blue, swollen, and laced wit
La de da
--
-Ed
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