My red fire engine
Doesn't shine like it once did
Covered with sand
Covered with sun
Faded and gritty
Just like my memories
What was once wholesome
Now has undercurrents
Of poisonous intent
A viper in my vestments
Colored tight and intense
Regardless of the good I meant
Purity
Can be measured
Why my personal pH
Is right about 7.0
This litmus says so
Maybe arrive at a Carat number
Twenty four times the Mass
But it's all a lie
I'm just being an ass
It's not scientific
Can't be measured
Or observed
The purity formula lives within
Deep under the skin
You might call it the soul
Though I've totally looked
I've peered in every hole
Purity
Is Intent
Divided by Desire
Multiplied by Circumstance
Then purified by Fire
Is the result a simple number?
Logical cold and cruel?
I really can't say
It tastes good though
I use it to flavor my gruel
Yours tastes very sweet
Yours tastes very bitter
Yours tastes of bile
But yours
Yours has little taste at all
It simply tugs at the corners of my mouth
Until it's just a smile
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