Jet Lag Liars

figuratively,
my hands are aching for your throat,
to so harass it,
in complimentary space.
for your heels rake in
claim your every deed-- no ruse claim your
every melancholy to be the bitter end.

but all I know, it tells me
how your seeds sew ripe with rotten deeds
and bleeds before the conquests' knight
don't you dare censor a word!

a battle to be won and lost,
fought for those you'd never trust
and yet you keep believing
it was made of wisdom.

open your eyes, oh sorrowed friend
and see the chiding eye of glory's end,
see that your words could not suffer pain nor strife
for even this, like you,
you can't ever
simply
empathize