Extreme Fever
Crystalline and delicate
Or disparate and cheap
I am waiting for the opportunity

I am sweating out my sympathy

And I'm still learning to reconcile
My art and vehement denial
Of holy, fault, and death
My sizable smile relents

A snake of a man in the grass
So I stand
Sit, take my weight of off my feet
Stretch, dissect intangibilities
Sever the stubborn, disavow the beliefs
The practical person pretends
He's already made his amends

I am under no illusions
I am underground
But I still breathe in
In and out and in and out
Simple, elegant seclusion
I am coming out
Ashamed of only time I could have spent
Doing something else

I've typically been the kind to doubt
The importance of a balance found
Between irrelevant skeletons
And a beautifully green-screened
Background
But the longer I sit and I shake and I wait
For particles to align in agreeable shapes
I relinquish my expert opinion on hate
And I strain and I scrape and it breaks

So I say

I am under no illusions
I am underground
Ashamed of only time I could have spent
Doing something else