The Straight-edge
Judge
Straight-edge
means you build and hit the wall
Only
water flows, nothing else at all
The cold
breeze below a hot horizon
No high,
no flying for hours, only desire treason
Time to
face the truth of you
No wings
of wax to see you through
Calm your
head, embrace logic’s child
Like
birth, the beginning that just seems an end, now the trial
The
nettle pricks your soul over and again
Urging
you – its okay to be warm, you’re not to blame
But you
feel the effects of the come down chute
You know
that attack as your body shoots
Stuck
between screaming and cold infinity
I am
cursed with the strain of desire for warm affinity
No reason
or empathy for the way you are made
Metaphysics
will cut you as the sharpest blade
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