"(Synopsis): {Side}[Peace]"

"(Synopsis): {Side}[Peace]"

When will the lies end?
Likely after life ends.
Almost every heavy commitment
Comes with a few light friends:
"Oh. Okay. Alright. " friends
Who keep till the night ends.
Get home before morning
And hope they're still snoring.

Dumb ambition.
Retarded with the drive.
Treating Cupid like he's stupid
Just so they can "Feel Alive."
Their others are so significant
That they strategically show it;
Orchestrating sincerity and innocence
So that they always feel important.

It's the rush.
Mad, malevolent mush
In a frantic dash
Just to clash with the hush.
They become quiet.
They remain silent;
Treading backstreet environments
Amid thoughts proven violent.

Aggressive in pursuit.
Chasing thrills in the dark
Like the lost ark.
Infidelity is stark.
Therapeutic like new art.
Heightened precision under conditions
That involve conscious decision.
Playing poker with perdition.

Laughter in the swagger
Of SMS soaked seduction.
Met with messages directly,
But no credit for production.
Kept a clean slate.
Early morning phone calls.
Cleared call logs before late.
Loathsome labor. Lustful mind state.

He'll hide out
Before she finds out.
Took some time out
But always out and about.
She wishes he would.
He wishes he could
Be straight with her.
Up and down without frowns.

Somber thoughts so profound
That occasionally resound
When he wakes up across town.
Forbidden fruit in a night gown.
Gentle kisses not necessarily preferred
Because they aren't as soft as hers;
But he swears by this body
That the wicked wiles are godly.

It's the need.
Maybe greed:
Firmly planted in the gluttony.
Silently strewn secretive seeds.
Loquacious lobbying for feed.
Words of worry fancy weeds
That choke bold bearings with regret;
But no one knows; so why fret?

Why deny?
Why hide?
If he takes pride,
Will he lose the noble side?
Trick question.
Rhetorical inquiry.
One can want times infinity
But one can't ration serenity.

It's like affinity is illustrious:
Love life laid to waste
Yet so exquisite in taste.
Rich flavor.
Sought after and savored.
Well seasoned suspicious behavior
Requiring intensive labor
In hopes of avoiding neighbors.

He's the wily veteran:
Sour stomachs and weak knees
Become tasks performed with ease.
Some say it's a disease;
But if the emotional affliction
Is bred of involuntary conditions,
How much is the prescription?
All he had was gumption.

Forgone is the assumption
That double lives are like consumption
Of three day old grease:
Forcing and uneasy release
From every opening and crease.
Every illness will not cease.
Lost to me are explanations
On how this brings about peace;

But judgement was never claimed
By biased, spiteful owners.
At least not in legal manner.
I can take part in the banter,
Pull every card,
Observe the bashers,
But until I've swallowed pride,
I reserve to stand aside.

Never took that ride.
Haven't made those plans.
Haven't had to hide.
Never held those hands.
Can't look into eyes
Where years of tears have dwelled.
Never reached for Heaven
Whilst holding on to hell.

Never did condone the way
Or try to keep two hearts at bay.
Lifestyles change each passing day;
Just like words we used to say…………

Written By: Devin Joseph Metz