What Sesame Street calls The Death of Hope

[arkany]

The buildings refuse to be still
Lights and lips grows slow and disorganized
You have no control over it and you blame yourself.

I am an asshole for thinking different
the unspoken nirvana of reunion, even though publicly you scorn,
you really want it
you want it like a wall wants to lie.

guilty pleasures that are more than bad taste

I am only angry at myself
but I am not the one leaving cell phone scarecrows
scaring the future from coming forth
it's straw head and melodic raven hair singing "I will follow you into the dark"
confusing me immobile
the insanity is not without merit
but you keep the badges for yourself.

sometimes i wonder if i get off
on being hard on myself.

this feeling is watching the dead finally die
and dying inside all over again.
your foresight does nothing but mock you.

i am a whipping boy to words
and a covert romantic
and i will hold a lighter to my palm and set fire to distant thoughts
it only makes them brighter and easier to find in the dark.

eventually it's a good thing
the final hurdle before you grow up and grow on
healthier lands
but for now

lips and lighters grow slow and disorganized
and she refuses to be still.