Sincereliesities It's Pain

I know I'm a phantom in the air,    
but I've seen young bodies drained to vapor    
floating up before it rains in human blood.    
To reincarnate once more as hounds scrawling obscenely on the tar pit.    
     
It's not enough to vanish when I appear.    
I'm a shadow that knows what's missing      
in the morning    
and what is coming in the night,    
according to the downing sun.    
     
So I tell you a fortune of a night.    
A night that is drowned in snot loneliness.    
And as shadows do, I am gone, echoed    
with no reality to give wind to me.    
     
We set our minds on the rice.    
That monkey with the coconut story.    
We want to have love so badly that we make it hard to have at all.    
     
We take it with a fist and we can't get it out.      
Because we can't force our way to love.    
     
When it falls out, you know.    
     
Love,    
it isn't blind.      
There is a moment of absolute trust and certainty it has after vigilance when it finally closes its eyes.    
     
We are driven mad, but love only quiets the racing    
when it has made itself sure.    
When love can't let fall its eyes, we are in flux    
and have need of phantoms.