László Reynolds - Confusion Serves Me

Confusion serves me as I look out the bus window
I see a darkness that reminds me of cosmic moments

I don’t want to become food
I cannot bear to face the truth behind all the despair I’ve failed to own
And handed to other poor souls

Confusion clouds again. I discard everything done and said that got me here
It is a shimmering place. Any breath drawn in may well be my last

Now my time has come to cook I feel all of the poisoned love I didn’t have to give away
But the temptation was so great

Herе I baste, broil, bake
Forevеr