It’s like an oil painting
In the moonlit night and sky
As the stars shine down on us
And of the shadows we ask why
We lie awake ‘till morning
With each other never speaking
No exchange of thoughts or feelings
Not that of trivial
nor that of colloquial.
In the hanging confabulations
And the shallow vocalizations
That are the words of our lives
You think of killing, devouring
All for that you want and lust
I think of nurturing that which
you kill, as help them I must!
We try to measure our integrity
Never realizing what we’ve lost
Those receiving seeking sincerity
Unfortunately there is a steep cost
You & I, together as we
Repelling without sensuality
Like a stanza poorly written
We have no sense of rhythm
Verses out of rhyme
No sync to our time.
Lost in the hanging confabulations
And the surface vocalizations
That are the pages of our lives.
Yes we think of things that matter
In paradigms that completely scatter
In the superficial suspiration
of our suspended incantations
And the lamentations
Groans in conversations.
Soon I no longer see nor hear you, you're contrite
And cruel thoughts fill the chapters of your life,
I turn away
Exhaling to respire
waiting to expire
Lost in the confabulations
And the emitting realizations…
In the novel of my life.
Inspired by: Simon & Garfunkle - Dangling Conversations