Some Wisdom For Myself, Maybe (#1)

(TW: Language)



So I guess I get a little scared

When the phone doesn’t ring like it was just waiting for me to reach a point

I guess all sorts of shit comes up then

Boring through the mahogany of my design like a carpenter bee

Saying something that I dare not remember

I really don’t have the strength to bear it further

I’d be better off to pick and choose

To be blown about with thoughts I do not expect to settle


So it must be these unyielding paradoxes that really touch me

Each hoop catches so easily on my temple

And only sometimes are they lifted

By some wedge of sincerity


A wedge I guess I really do desire


And of course I’m well aware of how easily I bend for doubt

It wracks me endlessly, though I’d say we live in peace


Of course I know, as well, that I’m just tired enough to let it be

For now, at least, I’m just tired enough to let it ripple over me


And I guess I get pretty fucking nervous sometimes

Because how the hell do I know what’s really going on

Regardless of every eye being different most of the time I can’t even look past my forehead


I usher away the clearness of my mind

I stifle shiny actions

I pull in my neck and brow and hover below myself

Not waiting, simply floating


A screwed-in bulb almost stuffed with black ants


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