What I do with money.

[nightskygod]

For sure, this is my life.
Holding on is the new letting go.
Destroying somebody is the new improvement.
You become better when someone else becomes worse.
It’s the natural cycle of my generation.
All of us desperately clinging,
To old ideas,
To old saviors,
Old problems.
None of want to get any better, ever.

We just want someone to acknowledge we hurt the most,
That we had the worst possible life:
That for just having been through it we deserve things.

I’m taking radical legal action against someone from my old life.
The life with phone calls filled with three AM admissions of guilt.
My life with I love you painted onto the side of every argument,
Like so much tagging.

I would give you all the details,
You know I ache just from the desire.
But I can’t.
Like so many things, details would spoil it.
That’s what my lawyer tells me.
The illusion of certainty.
When the curtain’s pulled back and you see that the man never flew,
He was suspended on wires strong enough to lift cars.
He was never in any danger.
And then you no longer care.
It’s just a trick:
It’s the Easter Bunny,
It’s Sitcom families,
Santa,
God.
It’s your entire life on display,
Cheapened and sold.
It’s seeing the mirrors and the smoke,
Separating fact and fiction.
Ruining the show.

Well, should I win, I’ll tell you.
If I lose, you’ll know.
The details are up my sleeve,
Saved on hard disks.
The details are fifty pages
Charged by the hour.