|
gull
|
jesus christ, it’s all fucked up
and i can’t take much more.
i’m tearing at my hair
and i’m clawing at my eyes
and i’m biting my fists so hard.
because the things you say
sometimes make me feel so strange,
like i have to scream and shout.
but that’s not me and it’ll never be
it’s all so fucking profound.
i curse myself, i curse my reaction
to something so inconspicuous and low-key
but i really shouldn’t run
and i really shouldn’t jump
and i really should think things through.
but my mouth’s like a crocodile
who’s snapping at the world
with a chip on his shoulder so big.
yet that’s just me, the way i have to be
and i can never change.
i value your opinion to the point
where i really have to understand.
but you never think i do
and you say i miss the point
and i never truly get it, to you.
but sometimes you just don’t explain
and the reality seems so vague
like it’s coloured with pastels, then smeared.
and i wish i could see, the way it’s meant to be
and then you’d breathe a sigh of relief.
see, i was drifting off to sleep
and my heavy head was tilting to one side.
yet i was trying so hard to resist
and be attentive and alert
and give you as much attention as i could.
but my mind plays tricks
and i can be so obstinate
even more so when i crave my bed.
and when you don’t see what i want it to be
i really should just bite my tongue.
|
020328
|
