All the love in the world could never bring you back, could never reverse time.
Logic, forward motion, arrows trajectory shoots across all space-time.
Leave me for this moment not alone, at my side, for so many years now.
To keep you here with me, tears are never enough, only a pact with God.
Honestly, even that creates self-deception, a pact with the devil.
Even this would not save a life, would not stop time always rushing forwards.
Love is not love that wants change to exist no more, to cease cyclic rhythms.
Observe leaves in the trees, ask them to stop growing green to red to yellow.
Voluptuous goddess, your son shot his arrow into my heart, I feel
Eternally grateful for the experience of these last fourteen years.
If nothing in this world can stop death, I embrace my ever-changing moods.
Nothing beyond this world, within the universe that I observe in time.
Truly, this is one truth we know as if science provides a litmus test.
Hovering between life and death, between this world and emptiness beyond.
Ecstatic moments push through my lost memories to contemplate this world.
What is this world that could have been otherwise than how it is in function?
Ordinary people don't consider this world of possibility.
Reality compels order, banality, futility, not joy.
Lift the veil, see the face, the bride mourns her childhood, misplaced by this moment.
Difficult obstacles impel me to hurdle forward, all in a rush.
Could I have been myself and been otherwise than as I have been in life?
Only the keepers know, placing dreams in boxes as memories long past.
Understanding this life passing under my nose, in a flash said and done.
Lighting in a bottle, fifty years come and gone, my spool soon unravels.
Decisions cut the bolt, the cloth of character, weave of integrity.
Never is a long time to wait to be given the gift of an event.
Every moment follows a first surrounded by their reciprocity.
Virtue comes to the weak like the economics of acting presidents.
Even pools of water gather more liquid gold than trickle-down theories.
Remember we survived the 80s as youngsters on the verge of success.
Bullshit detector sounds the alert of failure, mine the cause of others.
Realize this, that lies run deep in some people, to flesh them out takes art.
If a surgeon were near, she could excise my heart from in-between my lungs.
Not only would I still continue to respire, I would then climb mountains.
Given the evil bent of my sinister ways, a shield offers my crest.
Yesterday, I woke up to realize I'm dead to my family so far.
Of course, I moved away and continue to keep my distance for their sake.
Understand that I fear what would become of them in my proximity.
Beckon Satan, I laugh, but hire the poor to do what the needy must do.
And here, I must be vague, of course, send in the clowns to entertain my own.
Calumny beneath me, I shall not stoop to rise, but now I must let go.
Kiss kin kindly, killer before making your move, I seek my reflection.
Cancer, I am cancer -- born under the crab claws, the constellation grasps.
Oh, I'm not innocent but you in the mirror see me, my reflection.
Unfortunately, words get in the way of truth, the magic of actions.
Look so you may better see my heart, my conscience held in the surgeon's hands.
Defiant as nature, the tempestuous storms that wreak havoc in towns.
Never is a love song to lost friends, I succeed only in this, to breathe.
Ever wonder what lies beneath the lies, more lies, a landslide of false hope.
Virgin skies to take flight at dusk into twilight, westward into darkness.
Egocentric murder of self-pity, I charge myself guilty as charged.
Resort to last wishes, a meal fit for a king, and why not, I must die.
Rest assured, I will die after you in your grace unless I am lucky.
Ever bored of people, of ideas, of this world but still I see myself.
Versions of the truth lie in lies within landslides of falsity and mud.
Ever aware of time, how late I am, I rush as I cannot go slow.
Rest not until I sleep but my insomnia causes me wakefulness.
Serenity is not for me to enjoy, but for the alcoholic.
Even if I could hold my tongue, my hands would speak like a deaf girl in tears.
Triggers pull each bullet back into the chamber, see how language fails us.
In time, I grow older perhaps a wise, old fool once told me don't look back.
Murder my reflection citizens of Hyde Park, I cannot bear to think.
Every time, I witness the stupidity God grants killers, must I weep?
