The Symptoms of Pleasure

Ah, the sweetness of succour that demands all we will
The caresses of failure to keep what is still
A life given meaning in its strangeness
that desperation instils
in a future less ordinary
our ambition we kill
to save for the future a correction re-learned
a wish for a peacefulness, chastened, less earned
will compete for the tenderness we come to aspire
before we discover the false peace
that we hope for,
gives truck to no liar
and in our monumental foolishness
our emotions conspire, to put away
longings, less losing face we retire
into hopeless despond and fruitless desire

Ah, the sour taste of hope that remains all we show
to the ambitions we trade in as we reel in the blows
that cannot be beat to the drum lessons, that flow
to be learned and again always painful and slow
until understanding comes with experience its guest
as delightful it seems we covet our rest
for our future demands a less gullible grace
and a smile that is forced less reality face
the true sense of drama our suspicion deface..