The deceivers take on a shine
In our affairs
And we too often bask
In the nimble larceny
Of their desire.
We are what we cannot love
And search for what we cannot find
In ourselves.
Our frightened, fitful dreams
Are fodder
For foul, deluded tongues
That will not yield
In their cozen approach.
Honesty is beaten.
We are drunk on sublimation
Disguised as selflessness
And all too willing to exonerate
The brittle survey of our love
So that we are not alone.
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Comments: 6
gospel
Of their desire.
Indeed. We are all stealing our own souls...
ordeals of the non-quitters