Pain is of relevance.
It's a prevelance of common sense... Ever since the distance of love and purity has been erased... Blurred lines and televised fines is what we find our life lines in...
False Treasures we keep in our one too many bottles of gin. Life is grim like the reaper... We dig ourselves deeper into our graves of the unholy we choose to disguise as necessities... Like ties to the white lines on our arms... Carbon copies of the ones on the table... Money rolls like the blunts and joints smoking still from the night filled with one too many plights untold... So we cover the story by repeating automatonically... "Fortune favors the bold.." So we forget to remind ourselves of the lies so they don't hear those hopeless cries...
"we're not broken."
But once left alone to our devices... We lie there with the constant horrific truth... Pain is of relevance. It's a prevelance of common sense...
~Nov. 3,2018
