Grey matter

Groping in the greys again
grasp reaction
too slick
sliding
like ambiguity
 
She will wed him
a lifetime long
not me,  
but I got a thousand year promise
etched in emerald tablets.
Today though, it feels like a lie
 
A lie is only a notch on the bedpost of tragedy
and a lost love is at least a found write

Eloped a long time ago anyhow
she was just a mistress.
The misses,
as vengeful
as Shiva teaching step class
repays my deceit with misery

Misery is only the punched clock of the Great Work
and some vowels can't be broken  

Easy to be a god
all make, no morality
Allow for the shitstorm of man,
and all hell breaks loose.
Well enough I say
allow me that storm
and the rooftops to run on
I will exist enough in the flickers
to purge the downtime of emptiness

Emptiness is only a willing vessel  
to hold the lack of love the universe has for us