Monday, August 4, 2014

Never Love (Poem/song)

It's late on a Monday night.  I'm alone, wired, and revisiting some old dreams and schemes.  I'm not sure why I share these bits of artistic expression.  There are maybe 3 people who actually enjoy them.  Yep, feeling like Van Gogh again, only with words instead of paint.  Oh, well.  If it reaches anyone, it's better than staying hidden away.

Here's a bit of a twisted song that popped into my head not so long ago, something of a play on the sort of imagined love that sneaks up on you, either for someone or some thing that really isn't what or who you dreamed them to be.  Basically, loving the "idea" even as the truth escapes and ruins everything.  Sometimes, we suffer silently inexplicably.  What strange humanity...

The more I'm with you
the more I want to be around you
You're burning into my soul.
You're magnetic
tugging my iron heart so cold.

And the fire that burns
eats away at me
leaves a fiery pit deep within me,
and when the truth comes flooding in
to quench the fire
it's an acid sting poured down that makes me cold.

You're the perfect lover that doesn't exist.
You're every boy's fantasy, lightning quick.
You're the sting of forgotten dreams
bursting my ship's every seam.
You're the love worth fighting for that'll never be won.
You're the great pretender that's yearning for some
but it won't be mine.
I've lost my time.

I'm sick to the heart when I'm thinking of you.
Inside I'm bruised and battered for the things you do
and there's no way to forget the pain
of the things we never said.
For the future, how can we find the perfect one
with the seeming impossibility that's come and gone;
the tomorrow together, when we can't say the words?

Because the life you give to me is vibrant again
even though your wrong proclivities drive me insane
and I'm not even going to be there
when you fall.
And it's none of my business what you're going to do
None of my problem—no , that ain't the truth.
I'm caught by your possession,
in ways you don't even know.

For you're the perfect lover that doesn't exist
an old man's fantasy, twisted and sick,
a long lost dream of what we might have had.
You're the hard case lover that's already lost,
the pretty facade that's shattered and wrought.
A long lost impression
that's clinging to me.
I want to see!

How can our never love ever be lost?
Can imagination make up the cost?
They say love’s as easy as one, two, three.
Now this blind insanity’s killing me
for it’s a ghost of a thought you can’t figure out,
hidden reality and it’s all about
the burning inside (it won’t let me be!)
If you could find the words to say
why can’t we be that way?

But you’re the perfect lover that doesn’t exist,
a long lost fantasy that never is writ,
the painful future, whether without or with.
You’re the sweet, sweet poison that makes me sick
down deep inside, where you don’t want to fit
and the weight of reality
will never set us free.
Oh, my never love
someday you’ll think about me,
or so I dream...

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