that the complicity I have in reproducing the illusion of simplicity
perpetuates the lack of complication
and introduces a stifling veil of sickly sweet charm
to hide the true nature of a beauty
no longer available to see

once it becomes ordinary and understood
all that was once beautiful is unspectacular
and through its expectancy
I lose the air I breathe
which was once described as fresh
but is now little more than somnambulant

would that the beauty return
there must be a break that separates
without it, no longer will the spectacle
be so spectacular