the medals on my chest weigh heavy
they drag me down
gold is hard to carry
when the glimmer gets old

Feelings left reeling by simple words peeling
Back the cracked and dried scab of love's lack.

Yes I’m doing well.
But I miss you like a cave misses the sun.
I wish I had the courage to tell you.

The wisdom of age is caged
By rage
By pages staged in cultural serfdom.

The youthful burnt by truth's
Supernova
Of time and its rotten fruit,
wisdom, hah

So you find me between
The rage and the explosion.
Gritting teeth beneath pain's expressed grief.

Even if eyes fall
On warm and soft
Smiles

Even if fingers grip
The warm and soft
Skin

Even if words heard
Are warm and soft
Spoken

I’ll still slight the stone
For seeing only you
For feeling nothing after you
For hearing the end.
That cold and hard
Lump.
I’ll still slight that stone.