Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Really, it isn't about me

I haven't given up upon the ideal
That we should all be allowed love
And to be able to feel emotions
And everything that is real
But it is an ideal that is not pragmatic
We fuck first
Then hope to find love
We become enamored of the falling
Refuse to do the work
And try only to stay together
If nothing better seems to be offered
By passing schemes
Retarded dreams
False beliefs in nothing
That could ever pass for real
We have all become jaded
Because life has become an equation
Instantaneous gratification
Pornographic ejaculate
Intimate electronic greetings
Replacing hearts that once
Were meant to meet
We are victims
Of our desire
To make it all simple
And then it did
But instead
It became far worse
It was so simple
It became impossibly
And unreal
And everyone stopped
Being willing to feel