Between the truth and faith

From the darkness I see less but neon...
In the burnt dark cities, I see more amusements...
If the truth of the shit that made men...
Could last longer than a dream...
All those rough edges are from dreams or poems...
Of idiots who lived deep in the real truth...

like a fool

By night I sit waiting...
For who or for what...
I sleep when it comes...
Always silent and empty...
Am I a fool who waits to believe...
Again how long does this tired night last...
I can remember staying silent too long...

gossiping gospel

You sit and chop away...
 at listening to the gossiping gospel...
From the idiots and liars...
Another morning lost, not doing right by anyone...

quiet crisis

Quiet crisis of no blessing...
Being less than half a drop in five oceans...
Because if it hasn't happened by now...
There is no legacy...
What good is it to make someone happy...
While nearing autumn, the flame is tired by then...
That's a meaning less god gift...
When the pages are frayed...