Sentiment

The realization could spell indifference
when intimate images are no longer hidden
But we will what is our wisdom
As our passion becomes unrestricted

There will be few moments when this sentiment
will be so gracefully given..

I would never take advantage or for granted
the respect we have established
although the glaring distraction
makes romance hard to fathom
with our hearts within our reach
an understanding comes to grasp
I hold on to the feeling
that this experience could heal the past

To learn from the mistakes
To build where we both collapsed..
The ruins of our follies will soon shape our individual paths
I will meet you at the crossroads
Take some weight off your back
You can pay me with a smile and when I make you laugh..

The tears from my eyes will be so sweet
my taste will no longer sour

The bitter kiss that tortures us

Love purely will devour

- Ben

"Watch the Fountain Flow" - (poem)

I drank from the fountain just to spit it out and spray it
across the withered faces of elders seldom heard
ill spread the word by quickening their reincarnation

lay a foundation across this baron wasteland of acrid brains
gray-matter faced in dismay with lifeless waveforms
fallen like acorns away from the fruits of salvation

consider your place in this alienated race
as the world turns our souls burn
then we die like stars spiralling through space
all the while blinded by time designed and fine-tuned
to the illusion that we as humans are saints

our fear breeds our hate and
we can only be afraid of staying the same
we can only hate what we cant relate to
we created this ball and chain of anguish and shame
like slaves it remains at our ankles

tortured and tamed to submit
to ancient unexplained languages
strange myths that cant predict or change the path of fate
just fabricates a state of sedation

so take all your brain waves trade it away for some spare change
possession is obsession if its not a tool it's a weapon
we are distracted our reactions are too random and unexpected to fathom

it's so twisted conscious of this existence

the divinity that we seek only present when we sleep
its fleeting and the meaning is hiding behind the scenes
the reason driving these feelings seems to be so deceiving
like treason against the being that created the seasons
we are cheating our own dreams left with nothing to redeem us
the time has come to deeply see what we claim to believe

it's our turn our hearts yearn to converge factual spirituality
how can we enlighten our minds with stories and metaphors
of save-yours dying in tragedy piling up at our feet

we are all lost sheep gathering in herds to the nearest Shepard
whose message is too obscure to reach.