Acacia Gardens

A somewhat pessimistic love poem

I admit that every night
I opt to see by candlelight
In this room where the Dodechild cries
Like her I’ve been left to die
I wish I could explain why
Your words have always made me high

First made contact with thine eyes
Shot with Cupid’s arrows till I died
While picking flowers in my
Acacia gardens grown in my mind
I wish I could find why
Jumped off the nest but cannot fly

Veniste
Vidisti
Vicisti, help me

Am I, the machine, the kino eye
Paranoid or looking through my own lies
All the stars watching in the sky
Could not remind me of why
So I’ll have to hold my head up high
I’ll have to swallow your words dry