Only So Close

The words of your profession are still born. They have all the looks of life but without a quickening spirit. You will find that most men are slaves to good standing masquerading a nobility that does not recognize them. Who among us has the extra heart beats to stain that dry cleaning? We cheer ideas that are better than us and have become cold to the touch. Every second of our mandated belly crawl toward non-conflict has made an existence fit for taxidermy. You don’t mean to teach me. Oh no, the chalk is in my hand. It is I that will draw up the lesson. We all recited the same moral rhymes for a reward of candy. And In adulthood, we quoted the witticisms of fakers. So to shake loose the hogtie of our architects, I will stand so close to the thing you love best. I will breath on it. And if the mood strikes me, a theft is not out of the question. All the candle wax you hid behind had a wick, and I found it. You created a masterpiece, and I will take it from you. Can you feel my shark circles? Each revolution gets tighter with desire. The sunlight that it once radiated in your direction, I will suddenly intercept. Call me brother over the drip, drip, drip. Put on a show, I see the fire. With my thumb and middle finger is faster than your balancing act.