You contemplate the four corners of my integrity,
assuming I care enough to withstand the brevity
of broken hearts and mingled tensions
wrapped around your masculinity.
So to continue this intervention
inspect the distraction, misplaced attention;
don't like to forget me.
I'm like a burr hanging on the rabbit's foot gripping at the fur,
placing confusion like delusion into your schizophrenic reality.
So can't front; all anger is misplaced with thee,
'cause here's the truth- fact not fiction is what interests me.
Not feeling vibes, it's common sense; abduction is no remedy
so when it's ego feeding heart a neurotoxin reparation,
can't find proof of contemplation with this potential lover's tragedy.
Here lies the confusion- a total deficit in morality.
Your mortality completely lacks any interactive personality
with obvious impotence when pointing at the contrary.
Like wise, a clear trail of white lies leading up those pale thighs
with beauty so easily ignored behind the tapestry.
Share no delusions with the confusion we all think, dream, and feel.
This game is played, then we fade, no other way.
Just put it simply:
none of this is real.