stop the clock
for just one moment
too young, too old
too fat, too thin
questions with no answers

sometimes i light em up
only to bring em down
casting spells amidst these
memories without meaning
as black trails reveal
green intentions
forced to choose
between passion and rhythm
sometimes we mystify
and desecrate
these soft temples
wandering, wondering, and waiting
for tired dreams to arise

the old gods watch us
with narrow eyes
and softly weep
as we are continually conditioned
by false realities
and slowly driven mad