Poetry

Is it to much to ask for something more than   
dopamine and ((pulsating)) cromatics   
  
beating and shaking   
against the walls   
counting time   
until   
your middle-aged 2 A.M. destiny...   
that never seems quite as good as it could be,   
and you´re left singing karaoke to a wall   
once your best years have passed you by   
while everyone else gets drunk   
fantasizing about   
the fear of yielding to other´s desires   
and you´re ass.   
  
Is it too much to ask for a little true love?   
  
Romance isn´t dead, but your bleached hair   
and fake tan are; standing helpless in the cross-rhythm   
of your insecure shoulders, just so you can complain   
about something else.  A rook in the relentless assault   
to commodify one of the last few things   
not ripped from our chests without anstesia just yet.   
  
I will not forget how to dance on thin membranes of air   
lifted by the scent of chivalry   
because not all is sucked out by:   
text speak and faux-paux dispositions stuck to listas   
and empty stares batting themselves to death   
looking for open doors to E-Classes and X5´s   
with drinks full of secret ingredients.   
  
Is it too much to ask for something beautiful   
that goes a little deeper than damaged flesh   
hung out to dry on glossy meat hooks?   
  
To care about something more tangible you obviously   
could never care enough to try an understand?