I think there are simple things I hold true like the fan of the gingko, the grace that it proves
I can taste it no matter what channel I at the time occupy
Still I occupy time with the basest of lives, I dilute myself with a pill or a pint
Does the numbing go beyond the beer on my breath each night?
I think vices are sold as delights or shared trials
And I know that I've grown from my saladin tithes
But I don't know if I've bettered from lack or from trying
What is the damage and when will it matter?
I could end in disaster having never known laughter
And I'd rather know laughter, even if it ends in disaster
I can hear it in moments, in Bach and in forests
Each part proves the whole- imprints in the amorphous
Though so faint and far away having lived decades of concrete
Was it poured as ablution, a false shared salvation?
To spare pride at the price of alienation?
Though how false is this path if we were inclined to it anyways?
There are details in deadbolts the tangles of lying
And I can't comprehend all the fingers entwined
Half dancer, half vine, have I reason to question my own mind
When I am vial of molten light
I am a violet
Velvet unsteadied
That's not pragmatic, but what does it matter?
I could end in disaster having never known laughter
And I'd rather know laughter even if it ends in disaster
What would it matter, if I never knew laughter?
I don't know that it does
I don't know that it does