The cost

Hanging on to beauty that seems lost

Parrying the breathless monuments of sordid beings.
Loose veins move like jelly in an arm of no meaning,
I croon to the heart that is close to extinction,
That heart that is not physical
That heart that is not visible,
Its that heart that keeps the other beating,
So caught up in the fun of sin,
Candid and coarse habits rise within,
Grazing through the heart that is close to extinction.
For that second I see pure beauty, but then I see,
A stick of cancer and puffing from a flesh chimney.
In a world where debates rage, and action is war,
War, which only fuels another debate,
I wonder if peace is the only freak in this great,
World where we’ve replaced survival with hate.