Being honest with ourselves can be hard, especially in the age of social media where lies are mass marketed to us constantly. Is faking it until we make it the smart strategy, or should we learn to live with ourselves and each other without having to pretend to be perfect?
No Fooling
Purging venom from these tired lungs
From pursed lips these curses come
Flying farther on these fetid tongues
Dreams dig in beneath the skin like thorns
Seeing some far-flung future storm
Still standing on the edge
Watching the rivers rise once more
Ignoring the warning signs
Sirens swaying on the endless wind
Hear the howling underneath my skin
The Winter coming down from the mountains
Bringing this all to ruins
Omens of a spiral down
Still poisoning myself
Escapism at every turn
Still settling for hell
Gas-lit into this short-term squirm
Seeking some semblance of freedom
This dance I do between hits of dopamine
Brought low with every loading screen
I'd set this all on fire
I'd show you what I'm worth
Limitless potential
If only I could convince myself
I swear if your eyes gave me the time of the day
One kiss would devastate the chaos
I promise order would coalesce
I just can't seem to do it by myself anymore
I can see this disease burning in my brain
As I traverse this labyrinth of flames
Sensing these somnambulent streams
Of fractured consciousness
Leaping plague-ridden from ship to ship
Harbor a remedy never found
Hiding my feelings so it never sinks in
Dragged by the tide but never drowned
Supplies of serotonin dangerously lowering
I set my sights on indefinite heights
Riding the waves of this jag-toothed grin
Until I feel something inside
Out of a shape I was never in
Clutching a worthless heart
For sale and always in reach
Never earned a second thought
Not even worth the cost of free
I defeat myself in a landslide
My rituals and spells still incomplete
Mistaken prayers left by the wayside
The season's shift more subtly now
But the extremes are all that's left
So let us stop talking falsely now
Before we reach the end
All along the watchtower
The beacons remain lit
Hope an omnipresent delusion
Still the best at fooling myself
Constellations rise in cold distant skies
A heaven made for men but not for beasts
My heart and soul of the inferior type
Still laboring under the false conceit
That someone like I could shift your eyes
Away from that horizon's hold
And meet your gaze deserving praise
Promoted from fool to loved
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