The Days.

The rays lay slanted upon tectonic plates, The days for which i feel bad are gone, The sexual tension is thick for platonic fates. The plays for which i stole souls of the strong. The days for struggle lay dead in my back yard, Looking at the past, ill pass, I want all of my cake, down to the last shard. Hard cake is better than no cake mister, no sass. A drunk giggle right before the bottle of liquor came down with a crash. Old days are gone and look at me through windows with bars. Leave me be, I'm good, i promise, The may-be's never seem to amaze, But even now i must stay honest. In my back yard there are failures sectioned in days. It took forever to get here but now that Ive risen I'm not astonished.