Whimsical songs defining a better time.
When will I be set free from my youth?
You take me by the hand and a swift release, we loose grasp.
The blur of you is relinquished, and I’m left starry eyed and mute.
Speaking won’t do much for the cause; my voice is waiting for a different applause.
From a different audience, genuine with their empathy, I can here the shrieks on stage, cheer from each face.
Figments, all figments.
People like that don’t exist, a simplistic myth.
Because everything is meant to be lost, everything is over coast.
Pig bellies fruitful from the cooperation’s delicacies.
The government exempts the young from most all equalities.
Determination, to disprove the fact that you can be more than just disciplined in your youth.
I’d rather be strung from a hanger, floating in the clouds, and plummet onto the ground.
Fuck your society bounded thoughts, I’m unlimited, faithless, erase this.
I’m not your pretty face, your simple escape.
Put me in a domestic fitting, I’ll revolt against the bidding.
You can’t afford me.
You all cannot afford me.
Lord over me.
You got to be kidding me?
Sliced up wrists from sun kissed girls in floral dresses.
Wrinkles are easier when put with repressive intentions.
Suspension from God’s green earth.
Nothing is left, you automotive jerks.
Strip me down from head to toe, I’ll find contentment in the bare unknown.
Bored and useless.
Most everything has been done over at least twice.
Will a dimple invested smile suffice?
Promise to be yours?
Tempting, but I’ll refuse first.
Abuse in most every country.
Dictatorship in the land of the free.
Façade in each and every one of our “American dreams’”
Why waste the imagery.
Vivid sincerity, I don’t need the companionship, the restlessness I find in my daily routine consumes all clarity.
Secrets bind us tightly together in the masses tendencies for catastrophe
We’ll all die together in our own individual addictions.
Don’t say your convictions without revision.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.