Guide me to the wine-fountain I know best.
Guide me to the graceful leader from southwest.
Aren't you such an intriguing master?
Am I not the most diligent learner?
Please make me all your acerbic punchlines.
Pray tell me all your humourous lies.
Aren't you the ghastliest charmer?
Am I not an eager flatterer?
Sincerely,
from your most obliging soldier,
please don't make me a stranger.
Help me to your wickedly enchanting illusion.
Help me to my sorry pathetic delusion.
Aren't you the most elaborate witch?
Am I not an acquiescent good bitch?
Please tell me all my sins; all wrongs I've done.
Pray degrade me; demean me - all in good fun.
Aren't you adept at dulcet laughter?
Am I not the best clown of a character?
Sincerely,
from your most despondent jester,
please don't become a stranger.
A hundred questions begetting hundreds more.
A hundred options and a circumspect whore.
A hundred questions begetting hundreds more.
A hundred pages of our songs ignored.
Am I not a lyricist of tragedy?
Aren't you my bluest melody?
A hundred questions . . .
How do I know your masks
and not your features?
How do I know your patterns
and not your nature?
How have I learned your spells
but not the magic?
How've I learned your formulas
but none of the logic?
How can one learn so much
and know so very little?
How can one learn so much
and know so goddamn little?
What have I learned of you
and what have I not?
A hundred questions overwritten
on hundred old ones.
What have I given you
and what have I got?
Some hundred questions I've lost;
the hundreds rest forgot.
YOU ARE READING
All Of This Is Very Bleak
PoetryJust a few personal songs and poetry, that's all. The cover is a random photo from my gallery
