My head is split in more ways than one
It’s a funny feeling, y’know?
I don’t know how to describe it to you, honestly
Maybe it’s like a capsule
One of those you take to try and cure whatever the hell’s inside
One half of the capsule’s usually a lovely colour
Maybe a charming calming green or a glistening red
And the other side’s usually out to show that it isn’t all good out there
Or in there
With its bottomless grey and whatever the hell (see, I tend to repeat myself when I get anxious)
I lost that sentence, didn’t I? (I apologise I guess it’s my problem that I often end up interrupting myself just to force people to see that I am not particularly sunny after all)
And once again I obviously lost the plot
Because quite clearly the capsule is unlike my head in the way that it splits in only one way
But hear me out on this
My point is
My head may still be like a capsule
Because I think I tried to swallow it
And now it’s stuck in my throat
And boy, do I feel it.
“They don’t do it the way they used to,” I mutter to myself
I rip the bedsheets into uneven halves
Tearing each thread with everything I have left
But this is only in my head, of course
For I am too mild for anger
Yet too harsh for joy
I’m actually at the edge of my bed
And I don’t want to be the mess I always am
I still can’t get it right
I still can’t crack the code
I still don’t do it the way I used to
I never could, anyways
But this is only in my head, darling
Of course it is.
Just like the cool kids
I quiver with time
Finding the circle
I step on my denim
And fall to my shoes
And then I turn back
I’d like to give due credit for this piece to “1979”, the beautiful ode to youth by the evergreen Smashing Pumpkins. As time fades, so does our youth, but never our denim.
i better walk it back
and hold it in
and never let it
“i only take up a little of the collapsing space /
i better cut this off /
don’t wanna fuck it up”
– on the song walk it back by the national, off the album sleep well beast. i strongly, strongly resonate.
like a preliminary tale
to which caution will sway
but never swing
maybe that’s why rationing one’s delusions
makes for a pleasant escape;
in the way that it simply creates reality
just in more ingestible doses
towards the line
that’s a fucking illusion, anyway.
you were wrong about
the stars, sweetie
they don’t last
nothing does, anyway.
I guess I’m back here, simply because once again, I feel like my life is killing me.