Lie to me honestly. I hear, but still, I don't see. Just where the actions meet the words. You just sound the alarm. Racing pulse and boiling blood. At fever-pitch.
I sense the tension. A thickness in the air. The filthy air of our morality. Misplaced affection. In lost and lonely stares. Where urge ignores morality.
For all of our wandering,. We've still so far to go. For all of our questioning,. We've still the need to know.... . Are we still the frightened child?.