shakinghandsmedia

Love butting heads on belief and disbelief
in a thing unknown and a thing unseen.
Focus on the fellowship of a thriving building.
Vague explanations become all I have to lean on
and I am forced to examine every word in my brain
before I let it loose into the atmosphere of your being.
The pit of my stomach curls as I think about the deceit that you are now a part of
and my thoughts become filled with embarrassment
yet I adore you.
You have become the thing I hate more than anything else.
But I can’t bring myself to hate you.
I just hate what you pretend to be.
I can’t help but imagine our future, if there is one.
The constant charade of a ghost in the sky.
The imminent bickering about the nothing you are so dedicated to.
The unavoidable passing thought as I fuck the vagina claimed by a mirage.
You lift your hands as you praise the walls
and worship your ability to look like you really feel something.
Your biased friends compliment you on your moving prayers
and you make sure your eyes are closed when judging stares pass your ways.
So, welcome to the life of pretend that I once lived for many years.
I wish you luck and all the love in the world that you find what makes you happy.
I just pray that you find it in truth so I too can sleep.