Don't Make Friends With Good People

In this room
Where ageless wept
I never felt so worthless and direct
On this street
Two masts attempt
And I never felt so worthless and direct
We got lost in the hills
With fog lights on
Dressed in discomfort, cursing, harrowed, and suspect
But there was room
For harking on
Words out an open window, worthless and direct
Light breaks out on inertia!
I’m in the catskills
And an attack in the foothills
Brings me to a standstill
«But that’s the way the creature thinks…»
Is this injury within my head?
Sick of denial and amending plenary
I hid my doubts in you and grinned instead
But I was afraid that you weren’t of this century
I am Bob Brantley
Derision attacks me
A private soliloquy
No more to distill
I can’t keep my head still
If you could see that I’m not boring now!
There was a violence
In how you spoke
No underlying empathy to detect
You do not possess her
It’s not a joke
To say that it’s complementing, nervous and direct
You don’t know my surname
I can’t remember what was said or who to blame
I don’t suppose that we know anything
Your father brought flowers
Your mother tended to as we whiled away the hours
Yet I cannot imagine being so contrived
Ohourlibertyisbetterthanyours’ndyoucannotjoinus… ogre!
But sympathy’s odour… compels us
And strange as it is, I would do anything
I would do anything
I would do anything
I want my answers
I’m in the catskills
I can’t keep my head still
Can’t identify the signal
«But that’s the way the creature thinks…»
I fell short
Of what I was told was deemed to be right
It’s inevitable light
Is a furnace
Night distorts
Everything and good riddance, no matter
It’s inevitable light
Is a furnace that engulfs
All light
They’ve got the beats
And they’re vicious
Nobody can stop them
They’re of another planet
This!
Ideal!
! Bishkek! Escape!