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Soap Opera Con Artist
This backlit urban fantasy
Unravels through my eyes.
To strike a pose and feign a smile,
To conjure smoke and mirrors while
This backdrop of monotony
Makes way for my demise.
Show me what's material
In a world where weddings waste away,
Where amnesia and clairvoyants prey
On often vacant minds.
A wreathe of wicked glances
Kindly occupies my space.
The same scenario still has
A death grip on our speeches, as
The stares of end-scene trances
Will rain fraud upon this place.
Show me what is tangible
In a world where all that's loved is wrecked,
Where your death is just a side effect
Of a pale and wrinkled face.
My wife lacks faith to follow
My sharp dive off of the railing,
And death is hard to swallow
When the graveyard shift is failing.
So try to keep me close
When I fall victim to this cancer;
Just keep a careful distance
Or you'll get what you are after.
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