We know of nothing
But have lived everything
We can’t explain it,
Or care to even waste our time
We are not immoral
But don’t covet devotion
I can’t frame thoughts quicker.
Then you pull them from walls

I don’t care for tragic elitism
Or any of your points of view

We speak in image
Simplistically obscure
We can’t translate it
You either feel it or not at all
We keep recall behind doors
Their nails scratch the other side
We won’t disclose intention
We’re certain to push away

I Don’t want displaced aggression
Or what you think of my soul

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