Nameless

Damned are the ones of many loves
Borne to a hell of that slow oscillation between ideas and dreams
Those concoctions of the mind

That seem to say "I'll give you all, just devote to me,
Make me your god"
God, make me a god!
For what else is the pursuit of art, of love, of life

Than to feel that we are ascending, transcending beyond our own bodies

None can bear to live in this in-between 

of feeling holy and feeling lost - but not wandering

For wandering is but romanticism in the hearts of the lost

And if I could carve your name on the bottom of these feet,

then, maybe, they would direct me

And I could carry you with me while I go.

But I'm burning on this frictionless pavement,

scorching out love and calling me nameless

Nameless - the only name in a mind that fails to decide

We could make love

or take drugs

or dance until our feet wander from us, looking for our Name

But would it be enough, if we ever did find it?

Or are we better without wandering feet, left to rot in the bliss of the privileged

A wonderless privilege from whence I ran

And so I am backvat the Start - running in search of a name.