Flawed Logic

12/10/10

Remember that time

that I stopped looking to people for a reflection,

a mirrored image of the convictions I was

sure I wished to feel, and the morality

that somehow it seems I lost or never had?

Remember that time?

Yeah, me neither.

To stop asking for opinions on my wayward logic

means trusting my words and emptying my pockets

of lies I take too much for truth

of merry go rounds and loopholes,

the rhymes of youth.

Cuz my reason, it's wrong.

You don't think I know that?

You wonder why I ask at all?

It's because the other option to accepting my bullshit as perfume

is to stop caring for smells at all,

to say "fuck it" to truth.

Who needs a conscience? I'm fine as a monster of impulse

a bandit of moments

a faulty wire in your house that at any moment

might spark all the kinder that lies in your walls.

Smell the smoke as my embers now smolder out farther.

I hit phone lines, wallpaper, curtains, all garbage.

You don't need enclosure

you need excitement and heat,

at least you thought this much when you reached out for me.

Seems so fun at first as you look for marshmallows

but once your eyebrows singe the quiver of regret

starts screaming to escape and don't worry, I'll let you leave.

Cuz who needs a mirror when your face is just scars?

Who needs to trust hopes, emotions, or gods?

I'm fine twiddling thumbs, biding time,

fine to hum that old tune

'til my lungs fill with smoke,

then I'll smile, know who woke.

Its the dragon, the demon, the fire-breathing hound

come to kick up the party, blast the bass, pound the sound.

feel it in my bones

that'll let me know

more than any reflection, lame advice, or stop sign.

Yeah this might be flawed logic,

but fuck it.

It's mine.