Sublime Summer

sweet sweet sublime summer
resting fevers for each other
flowered breaths breathe bonds
between our moments far too gone

Reply Complete With Errors

The human condition IS fucking frightening. From the moment we emerge from our nine-month breeding vesicle we are held up into blinding lights and cold wind currents amongst seemingly terrifying creatures, crying because that is all we know to do. But comfort comes, we are warmed in the arms of another and we adjust to the lights. There will always be comfort. Those once terrifying creatures become familiar to us and less terrifying. We are subdued peacefully into our idyllic innocence. But our comfort cannot last indefinitely, unless we are to remain hidden in the warmth of the blanket. We venture out and we grow. And adventure livens us; the wondrous senses that surround our being. And our innocence weakens. With every sensation, with every new discovery. We cannot say that we don’t know; we cannot plead ignorance; we cannot honestly believe that is all good. We fall from grace. Or is it that the world falls from our grace. We see the bullshit. The utter malicious intent of others that is willed. We feel exposed the elements of humanity and see the truthfully terrifying creatures, but we cannot cry because to show weakness is to open a door for them to enter. So we shelter ourselves with the blanket of youth but it has since become worn and we have nothing else. We inflect and see that e must either a)let it desroy us, b)become one the horrendous, or c)… there must be a third way… but it always seems so fucking pointless.

If Children Don't Grow Up

they say that there's something wrong
when you know that there's nothing wrong
then they tell you that you're smoking lots
but you know it's not
it's just broken hearts
and we're all miss-taught

oh they think they know you
but just you know that they don't own you
oh they think they know you
but just you know that they don't own you

when the atmosphere is getting thick
and our hearts are sinking like bricks
when all the noise bursts through our seams
all we have to do is make-believe

lazily lie in your mother's bed
and later we'll lie to them instead
shine so bright under the sheets
run in the rain through the streets