Convincing?

It all takes time. These feelings repeat again. Nothing ever makes sense. And then a bombshell signals more damage. Circling the feelings that were made only yesterday. What's the point in communication. Things would never be understood and you always go for the common denominator to sort out all your useless problems.

What if I pack my bags and run away? What if I move somewhere closer to the ocean? I feel I'm getting nowhere and you're all about appearances. You're more worried about your body than you are of other people. What does that say to us all? It's not worth picking up tips in a magazine. They're not guaranteed to work on everybody.

Temps du loup. Temps de perdu. Is it too late to leave? Is it too late to change my mind? Because nothing's ever certain. Do you want a wolf in the morning or a sheep at night? Have you any wool? Does it cover your eyes? I wouldn't mind it's just that I'm not convinced. Do you need anymore convincing?

10 Seconds To Go

I create new feelings out of nowhere. I'm just a con who wants you like a pro. Kill me. Kill me again. There's no secret in disguise. There's no objection to our lies. We're not the same people we were 10 seconds ago. False dawns and keeping up pretences.

I'm an actor wanting to play the part. Watch me wear the mask so that I could follow your every move. I'm probably not all that convincing. Take me down a peg or two, a performance so wooden, a brittle heart wouldn't take much more. What would it take though?

Second Symphony

Hit the ground. Where do I relapse to rekindle? Can I speak? Can I make a sound? I'm not making vast overtures to steal a win. I only want to thread softly softly. Wouldn't dream of getting anything dirty. Or leave a smudge on your pristine persona. It's only because I care do I feel this way. Or did I scare you off again.

I'm sure a second symphony would have been a breeze but I'm a storm and no one wants that. Can we get in 7/8 timing structure? Or 5/4. I'd swap places with you, I'd even want to know what it would be that would make me dream of being swallowed alive in your secret circus. I could never replace the part of your magician but I can disappear. That's what you want though, isn't it? Don't make a sound.

Make me relapse, make me think that all is not lost. Make me think that I least have some function for you.....even if it is a soundtrack through a damaged mind. Mindful of what happens next, I know I'll never be a part of you. But at least I know now that I would've loved to have been there.

Cosmetic Result

Future put the past defect. I don't have the same air of indifference I used to. Too many broken promises put to the sword. I travel to escape but I can't escape myself. Broken confidence. Once again, the construction work will take time to gather up the pieces.

It's hard to find an identity in all this. I unravel at the snap of a finger. Dislocated bones, disjointed thoughts. You hide yourself in a neat little corner. I know you've got an invisible army all waiting to attack if I make the wrong move. Looks like everything I built up was made from wrong moves.

It's always the same, always purifying some kind of denial. And what's the point in that? It's not like that at all. I'm all burnt out. In some regards, the result is only cosmetic, and there will always be another day. Another day in denial. And what's the point in that?

It's hard to find an identity in all this. It's like a hidden mantra. What else can I say? I'll fall in love again but whether they allow all the suitcases I bring is another matter. Light on the feet, light on the mind is the greatest catch to find. Or so it looks that way. What do you make out of all of this?