Catastrophic Conclusions of Confusion

I don't know what I deserve
I don't know much about anything
I don't know how in the face of desolation I will swirve.

I guess I will hope for something
I guess I will take my hands off the wheel
I guess I will wait for anything

I can pretend to feel
I can seek what is not there
I can hope in what is real

I feel the breeze of the air
I feel each gust like knives 
I feel, I swear
 
I see those in happy lives
I see pain and it's not mine
I see families like hives

I smell their weakness and lack of spine
I smell it like leaking gasoline
I smell it with a shadow of gin and wine

I taste her lips through the screen
I taste her pain
I taste her urge to be seen

I touch her in the rain
I touch her 
I touch what can’t be vain

I do not bring gold and myrrh
I do not sing like a saint
I do not smell of liqueur 

I have dreams of what to attain
I have hope of a someday
I have an idea of a life, so quaint

You are beauty’s bouquet
You are too good for I 
You are my life on a week of Sundays

 

Tags: Rhyme, Confused, Pain, Abstract, Wishful,