In Traps Laughing

We rose
And another night
And it means nothing --
I just laughed.
The explanation was so dull.
The smile just lingered
Astounded the girl and herself.

Speaking of becoming plain...
the anathema requires a cure
and her poetry is just a borrowed song
in the wrong language
with full emotion and spirit
but desperate steers paint
And they paint nothing.

Oh, we like other's philosophies
It's so silly to reach into someone else's dream
and stay there.
Oh, we boast in traps laughing
Egotistical whims describing our insecurity.
It's ineffectually and indescribably dead.