let lemons be angry

"We've sung about present times
and lived here forever in our heads,
making it beautiful and slow
the way we remember the dead-
not lifeless, but living
with warmth and poetic regret;
last chances, fast dances,
any love that was bled-
We don't remember their corpses
stiff and shoulders to boards
the painted lips and purple lids
the sores, rope marks, disease and rot;
We lie instead. We make it up,
for minds desire pretty things
and death without lies is not.
Likewise, you see now.
This thing we praised in song:
It is cruel, it kills blind. It does not think
before it strikes, or after, or at all.
It has no time for melancholy.
We were wrong."

--

And i think I shall use my energy to make my father happy, while I still can. Days feel incomplete, but after-dinner milkshakes and good conversation definitely sweeten things up.

Topic of the night: how do some people give themselves away so easily, and so often? It's getting more and more puzzling, and it's not like we're afraid of being talked about in diners.