self-love

The words went from bad to worse,
So let me bring in some mush
To cover up the counted minutes
And then go back to work...

What work is that?
The decadence is your work?
But they sleep, or they earn their brain's worth...

But I don't want to cross that stupid door
To go and waste some time out there
It's not the same here; it's so much better

You know they do what they do...
Time ticks away as they huddle
With their ill-seasoned spice bundles

I have not enough time with me
And you want some of that?
Is your home more cluttered than mine: that's a shame

Okay we lack our private little corners.
We have ghosts lurking down our spines.
Our history scares us out together; you mind?

I will not answer anymore.
I wish you heal and return.
Smiling, I'll lie in my prosperity.

I can hear the music, I can read and see the films
As my mind speaks to me about a thousand dreams
The mush stays where it should...
And love swoops down from hearts, old and good.