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.
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