Speak to me with your prism of justice, stare long into my hardened eyes, and speak to me of the motives of madness.
Speak to me of darkness.
Speak to me of your child’s lies.
There is no warrant, no justification, and there exists no possibility carved into this cold-hearted night that speaks to the beauty of the moment.
The broken tears that are incarnate, and all of injustice that dies within the fruitless arms of dissonance. What a terrible way to die.
As I did every single night I laid my cascade head onto the pristine white canvas that was a plain, white pillow next to what I thought an extra ordinary you.
A carpet of beautiful betrayal.
You always had a way with thread.
Such is life.
Life can be such beautiful madness, sometimes.
And others, well, those other sometimes life can be such tragic sadness.
And I find I want to be the middle.
You crazy kids.
Go have fun.
Life aint about the dead.
It’s about the living.
May you always find your smile.