Confessions Of A Lesser Known Saint Haste

Down the path of resistance, I find myself stumbling through my wants
and my failures, weaker than the thrill.
Temptations attack our loyalty both the idea and institution.
An equation of emotion to thick for calculation but in the solution one and one are three.
So when you see me pass me by (crossed my fingers wish that you won't notice).
Even red letter days still end with night, in sleep we remain hopeful.
Pan back to February and heavy eyelids see plots unfold to movie endings.
Searching a bed room ceiling, find subtleties,
finding flaws but never answers for what you did or what you do.
I know the past still stings, but deafened ears waste apologies.
So when you see me pass me by (crossed my fingers wish that you won't notice).
Even red letter days still end with night and dreams to wake and find another.
So go to sleep, turn off your ringer (just close your eyes) afraid of what is left to find out.
Until the daylight drips in our eyes in sleep we'll remain hopeful.
There is nothing left to say. Nowhere to point the finger except right back at me.
Face to face with my short comings.
I'm still waiting for the chance to show you this education gained on bathroom floors and under street lamps.
This all could have been avoided by speaking honestly and letting the truth into our lives.

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