For Words + Play

Said you’re all out of singles
I said try double-dipping
And you reached for a line
But hands were Freudian slipping

I tried playing it smart
But the dumbbells were wringing
With the wait of the time
Because my pendulum’s swinging

On your side for a second
In your way just to change it
Now I’m force to be reckoned
With a chemical agent

Sure you’ve seen and you’ve conquered
But now you’re dis-oriented
You hardly knew what was coming
But you softly relented

If we’re a joke where’s the punch
Line of kool-aide to inspire
These shits and gigs leave a byte
Like ha ha B B gun fire

Advertisements

To Remind Myself in a Rut:

Remember:

That your turning points have never come from glowing revelations,

But from those yet-unworded fuzzy pangs of off-ness
you didn’t think would ever emerge from your background noise;
From the feelings that leaked out where they weren’t supposed to;
From the moments when your words stumbled upon the gaps in what they could say, into the wormholes of what you were missing. 

That you’ve come to feel amazing
about things that made you feel like shit a few years ago.
That you’ve come to feel nothing
about things that made you feel like shit a few years ago.
That you’ve come to feel powerfully enraged
about things that made you feel like shit a few years ago. 

That you’re feelings aren’t special.
And isn’t that great?

We’re Here (and we’re also there, and we always have been)

You call it a foreign substance
As if it weren’t running in this blood call your own
And you see it glittering across the earth
But not in the shadows of your own backyard

But can you remember
When they sold you those fears to wear as your own?
Can hardly blame you–I’ve slurped up their sweet talk myself
(But it could never wash out this blood)