Scar tissue

Rip scar tissue, pass on tissues, hear my issues, let me roar.

Got ideas, got desire to fulfill you all, but tired I’ve become

Of your approaches to my willful victim culture.

You’ll be lost, and I’m the vulture you picked out to devour all of you and every hour, till you fail as a lover.

Got no power, Pisa Tower leaning back and never falling.

Never faking, always bowling, catch a buzz, but never rolling.

Built of lust for pure excitement.

Always gifted, never stolen, through preamble of indictment,

I’ll be sleeping, you’ll be trolling on your way to next nightmare.

When you get just what you wish, when you’ve tasted every dish,

When emotion seems so basic, it’s no longer that delish.

So you relish in your anger, or your sadness, like Menander.

Danger warning on forehead, words will outdo the lead.

Always walked alone, not lead, down narrow winding road.

Sharp to an extent, not read, playing house on the bend,

Where you are is where you went, never broken, always bent,

Never killed, but always scarred, just a mechanism, a part

Of a rather bigger something. You keep waiting for award.

Mort into another presence, like a punishment, not presents,

Feeling numb – fate of a fool. Better just to change. Retool.

And adjust to your condition. Love is stuff of prohibition.

Always gives and takes and hurts, yet it pleases beyond words.

Love devoid of thought and action. Like a reflex, a reaction to the loneliness we feel.

First you fondle it, then kill everything to which relates.

And forget what it predates. Walk away from scars and fears,

Skip the mirrors on the wall. Maybe that’s the real goal?

Then you lose a bit of self you give up for worthy cause.

It’s a gain and not a loss if you want to strive and prosper in your head.

A mere luster on the surface of disaster that’s become your mind and life.

Must you always be so trife? Like an animal in cages,

Never mind your home and wages, you will be forever broke.

Might as well be smart and woke.

When you can’t exist alone, when you sin and won’t atone,

When your purpose is yourself, Peter Panning through your days.

When you’re being choked for real, when you feel like you can’t breathe,

Choke her back, it’s all the same.

You exist because you wish to survive a little better.

To endure another letter from the alphabet of pain.

Hence you love and you remain.