the cup is certainly half full
drank up, now a cesspool
murky, not safe for the thirsty
spilled, soiled, incomplete
not fit to wash my feet
with this cup I drown
ship sinking
leaking from inside and out
pouring through holes in my philosophy
they're on to me
theories that create fury
always in a hurry
to get to where I don't want to be
see things I don't want to see
want things I can not attain so desperately
freedom is never receiving
no advantages for the weary
for the strong minds that think oh so clearly
the analysts will all end up pessimistic and dreary
dramatists fall into reality
no one sees at all like me
my reds and blues so strong
but my yellows are hazy
phasing, from green to brown
always coming down
from mediocre highs
holding open my eyes
in love
with all their disguises
my blood rises
show and tell, see hear and smell
I know that all too well
what about the touch
that spurs us on
what about the speech
that sometimes feels wrong
what about the half empty cup
not worthy of my spit or your shit
throwing it in the air in a rage or a fit
only to slowly go back to the real fact
that there is no advance
without risk
so I think I'll lean in
meet me half way on this