Slowing it Down to the Basics

Hands.

Are a particularly fascinating detail about us.

Us.

Being man.

Men.

With lips that match our hands.

A tag team demonstrating a pattern of irreversible effects.

Reflecting emotions that we don't think exist.

A dangerous dichotomy of precisely ambivalence.

We easily- like we have a syndrome of being compulsively lukewarm-

spit out whatever we feel with absolutely no regard.

To the ramifications we are mass producing.

So, in not meaning what we say we are constituting

a slowly developing case of severe mental delusion.

That's me.

I care what you think so I'm listening.

But if I listen to hard I'm misunderstanding.

And consequently all my short thoughts become long.

For the reason that I'll  never be fully right with you guys.

So by definition I'll always be wrong.

And yes, that is my fatal flaw.

My stress about this is not uncommon.

And I guess I can't blame the mindless commments.

But you shared it like a cold and I caught it.

The thing is you are the logo for sour patch kids.

'First they're sour, then they're sweet-".

It doesn't even mater what you did.

It matters what it's doing to me.

What are you trying to get out of me?

As the people that I trust the most.

You are crushing me the most.

But I give you permission because I trust you so.

Much.

But know what you are doing because I will listen to you.

And your words' precedence in my life

makes me subject to you.

Do not estimate lightly the weight you have in my mind.

A soul is one of a kind.

So kindly remind. So kindly remind.

Your lips and your hands

not to be weapons in my life.