ONE MORE TIME

nevermind

Why do I still exist?
Why does this uncanny perception still persist?
My bed is breaking
It's been a hot minute, but my back is still aching
Stuck in the moment in the worst ways
Simultaneously awaiting yet dreading his gaze
Just a couple of gays
Skies are stuck in spring, but summer has its ways
3 summers gone, I'm still swimming in my own mess
Hyperfixating on this carcus, I've been slowly growing inside my own mind and chest
Using metaphors and allusions while screaming: take a fucking guess
Cause I lost the remote control
That hits hard in more ways than one
The flickering lights run rapid uncontrollable
When the lights go out I don't have to look at this face
Muddled years i can't seem to paint away
I guess I'm not some idiot?
Still feel like one though
Wish I could take control
Of this avatar I've claimed to make amends with
But the inconclusive feeling never ends
Cause I don't know what I want
But the wasted years on overthinking loss never left me much to flaunt
I'm sleeping upside down
Sweet sap spotify sound
My words are crap in the am
I just wanna move on from the crystal mayhem
Because I don't feel like grown-up or anything
And I know damn well I can't really act or sing
But my perception needs some sort of validation/correction
Don't know what I'm doing anymore
I wrote my poems as letters to their empty emotional core
If you don't waste time, you can't repeat rhyme after rhyme
Excuses like take a fucking shower in an hour (any day now)
The unfinished drawings glued to my eyes leave me blind and the abandoned verses deafen my ears
I look at some random object and fictionalize tears
But I kinda suck at writing fiction? Is that a contradiction?
Because my coincidence driven cape lacks the capsule for meaningful character
Surface level's what you get here, my friend
And I know I could delve deeper
But the alternate potential shadow would be even steeper
And is that a possibility I'd subconsciously wanna keep?
It's not that deep
Only takes a leap.
Leap of faith
My achilles heel
Which is basically the aftertaste of my personality
My face screams
Boring, and crooked as it can be
Holes cut by...knives I say belong to other people...but are really owned by me
Even to me, this mirror shadow is a mystery
My eyes move in different directions
I never really did feel comfortable
But how other people perceive my blind eye is out of my control
Maybe one summer I'll see what the other side of the slide is like
Catch up to the reminder on my calendar
I half-crossed my fingers as I steered and signed
I look down, I'm afraid, how do I outrun or even start to cut back on this mess that I've made
Eeven if you say you're living in it, you'll always be at least semi-blind
Nevermind.

Because I never really did feel complicit with what I was looking at
When I was eleven, I took it into my own hands
Twice or once a day, was one of those rarely recycled plans
Maybe I've just been letting my problems pile for awhile
I'd rather waste my hours practicing my half-assed smile, for weeks on end
The guilt bleeding out of my bitten tongue, every time I attempt to talk to a friend
I...I let the blood seep, I expected it to end on its own tune
I sat there and wearily waited and watched as my skin was stained maroon
I embraced the offbeat look, even accepted it
But the vindictive voice in my skull always insisted on correcting it
I danced as it directed me
I should've put my foot down, but I conived, cracked, and convinced myself to delay the decision, to rancidly repeatedly disagree
Delaying the dizziness done from seemingly spinning in routine circles is my sole successful hobby
I never had the courage to request a role or a room, feet frozen in my own mental lobby