I feel like I should have done something by now
I feel like I should have done something by now
Or on the road to doing so
Like the road I walked
When somebody forgot to pick me up for school
And I was lonely by the lockers
(Decided to walk in the snow
Because it was better than staying there in that shithole.)
I’m so stuck – wheels in the slick mud
I want to see something
I want to do something
Something worth my crumpled dollar
That the vending machine spit out.
I know who I am
Why waste time?
I know who I am, I promise
Now just let me get out
And no, don’t ask
Because I don’t have the answer
Thought I did but I lost the memo
Because goddamn it, I lose things
Like Van Gogh lost his mind
But I invest in some faith
As I twist around my self-composed lies
Lies like I’m different or special in my creative arrogance
Yes, I said composed
Like fucking Mozart
Who created spectacular soundscapes by the age of five
But was never recognized until after he died.
The things I love to do should not be crammed in
That blurry corner
But exploded, filling up my everything
Like brimming tears
(That blurry corner.)
Blurry like when I squint my eyes
And the light splutters shards all over the place
Like imperfection
And that’s a metaphor
Wrapped up in a rainbow
Cast across the wired sea
And given to an angel.
Yes, give me a bad grade and a smirk
“Oh, look
He messed up.”
Ha. Ha. Funny, right?
Because you think this all is a joke?
Even the free spirits are conformists
Because they can’t help it
Because this is a society of conformists
Whether they like it or not
The wolves are all dogs now
Get used to it.
But that’s actually bullshit
Because I won’t get used to it
What’s all the point
If the point isn’t to change?
“Lms for truth is.”
Well, the truth is that I’m just some egotistical bastard
Who has no reason for sadness or cynicism
Because I couldn’t care less about humans
Because I couldn’t care more about humans
I’m just bound up and covered in my clumsy self
Sorry and useless, like the hollow of a shell inside
Complacent and friendly, like the skin of a shell outside
There’re people who deserve the deep and painful pleasures
Of wallowing
And wallowing reminds of me of butter
Slow and soft like sleep.
And my values
Are they really my values?
Or the plagiarizing of those
Who actually know something
About life and the world.
I’d rather
Just
Stay
Silent
But I won’t fucking shut up
Listen, I’m afraid if I do
I’ll stay quiet forever.
