The Future

You don't need to stick around to believe in me.
I mistrust your good will and intentions anyway.
The letters on the chalk board are loud and clear.
Though they are fading with the sarcasm of each smile you bear.
You are an eternal error on the spot of empty sunrises.
Blank staring glass eyeballs slippery to the touch of the hand of god.
It all means nothing, yet I hesitate to find meaning and give meaning back.
There is a lack of commitment on my part to be stable enough to defend reality.
What exactly are we trying to create with our samples of misery?
The problem isn't religion or lack there of.
The problem is You.

Dru