these silver-lined apologies
taste bitter on my silver tongue
my shriveled lungs will gasp and
wheeze soliloquies until they seize
so I'll just shut my fucking face
disgrace will not soon wash away
I've paid my dues, I know I'm through
what's best of all is so are you
so long, farewell, to all the fake
and fragile friendly fairy-tales
distorted nightly story-time
contorted into mourning time
and I will not lament the loss
of what it's cost to be abhorred
adored before the eyes of those
who wish to wear my ragged clothes
whose eyes don't close but never see
the souls that hang from every tree
like anti-christmas lights and wreaths
you writhe beneath my feet and fight
for every tear, for every year
you were everywhere, but never here

you strung them up, from pole to pole
the pieces of my very soul, perhaps
to help you find your way back to the day
when you could say you loved me and you
missed me and convince me everything was
true without the shadow of a doubt
that what you said was not deception
but a perception of the piercing pain
that loneliness has always
caused you never paused
just for a second or a moment or
for just one fucking instant
while the angst was building constantly
when an hour won't suffice and eternity's
expired you required more than you could need
I just wanted you to let me bleed
in this seedy room just you and I you cry
until the ducts are dry plagued by the disease of 'why'
and for every tear, for every year
you were everywhere, and now you're here


Welcome to 'It's Too Late'