What makes you think

You deserve the sediment of my truth?

You should expect me to be so honest

I owe you nothing, no blue prints for growth

I can barely begin to tackle myself

A friend is a foreign term

Good, better, best, intangible

Please, one at a time, it's all they can handle

Please, let me blend as well, it's always too much

Cover at the repercussions of honesty

It means nothing, yet still the world hanging on every word

Violence is no motive to communicate

Come unto me in all your glory

All consuming in this childish pride

Your blows so soothing, is this proof?

This does not cancel any options

Broken idols, so comical

I won't accept anything less

Than absence of prostituted smiles