Some Wisdom For Myself, Maybe (#1)
(TW: Language)
I.
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
II.
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
III.
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
IV.
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