||rage||

as we drift each day further and further apart,
touching not each other ||or grass|| but gorilla glass.

welcome to your own personal hell,
where expectations cast their spell.

breaking down each day as a moment lost,
cuz touch melts the insecurity that frost.

long long ago it feels like I've been through this.
didn't have a good effect on me; my need my miss.

yeah words are healthy when they're said n' meant,
promises kept n' expectations set.
responsibilities maintained n' prick-prodded intellect.
but what of desires of the flesh; what of getting-bent?

take it from this/one/here man dimple-simple.
its harder to embrace blemish-free over pimple.

cause i like when the real dictates and throws a fight.
so marry me now and lets, rage against the dying of our light.

||rage||