What is this bottomless source of inspiration they call love?
Will it give me a reason to step out of the door in the morning
What is this immortal and uncontrollable desire they call love?
Will it make me finally clear the dust in these arteries?
What is this mythical force they call love?
Will it’s claw reach out and slap the knife from my throat?
What is this all knowing, all seeing entity they call love?
Will it stroke my hair and stop the late night sobbing?
They tell us not to worry, they tell us it’s not everything
Then they tell us to fucking consume by every square inch
Self-indulgent scriptures of bloated romantics
Acting like it’s as natural as wearing the shirt on your frame
And if you dare turn up to the social gathers on your own
Then you’re the outsider, the kid that got picked last in P.E
Arm in arms they give you the most detestable looks
Forcing you back like a laser beam back to the dungeon where you belong
Disingenuous sonnets shoved down my fucking ears every day
From deflated personalities, who have beam devoid of it long ago
Trying their hardest to recall a time a fallacy could serve as the fuse
I’d give anything to feel something so powerful
That’d it’ll reduce me to such a pathetic snivelling wreck
But I’d be thankful, because I was eroding on the floor with another
Would I stop feeling so lazy, if someone else was there egging me on?
Get your arse out of that chair you’ve got to keep my interest
Would I stop feeling so hollow, if someone else was there to make me react?
Unfasten my bra and I’ll bring this poor lost soul back to life
Would I stop feeling like I want to die, if someone else was there to stop me?
Oh honey you’re a god, you’re an Adonis, you’re anything you want me to say
Would I stop feeling like their’s no point, if someone else was there to give me context?
I’ll rip you open from your insides and give you subtext
You sit there from a top a makeshift stepladder and bark orders at me
To make a rough estimate for every aspect of my life from here on out
But when I can’t even begin to grasp this simple and yet universal concept
How could I even be sure of 1% of what could reach out and trip me up
Student loans, Career prospects, Mortgage, Kids college funds and Pensions
I can’t even get her to hold my hand before she leaves on the 61
Oh god what’s the point of trying, I’m lagging behind the crowd by 2 years
And now suddenly 80 years till my grave feels like it’s tomorrow
As preformed by Domestic
– Lnc0
Domestic Poetry 