Brain Dead Vulnerability
Now I’ve lost all of my mystique.
I spent my whole afternoon
Cracking open my brain for…
No, I did it for me.
I needed to see what I really thought
I started to write
Thousands of words later
I feel like I said
everything there is to say
Except for what I meant.
The truth is, I don’t know what I mean
I don’t know what I want.
I guess, what I want, is to stop having to deal with this.
To stop having to be someone else
To stop trying to undo what they did.
I don’t like undoing what they did !
They should have to, instead.
I’m doing, it anyway.
I’ve always been
I’ve been profoundly misunderstood
By everyone, everywhere, doing everything.
Again, maybe it’s because I’m a man
Or maybe it’s because I’m the lamb.
I wasn’t ever a size 14, however.
I would’ve been to big for mr. buffalo.
Maybe he would’ve used me
As a coat?
I should be afraid of this, I ‘spose
Vulnerability, I mean
Not random serial killers–
That, would sooner be me.
I’m afraid of other people
They don’t know me at all
When I crack open my heart and let them in
I feel like I’m free falling
But in the worst way
I let the wrong ones in
I was given to them, at birth
They played hockey with me
And now I’m a cunty chipped-off puck
I’m other here
Daydreaming about death
Isn’t that what they want, anyway?
Humans are not good, I’m afraid.
I can’t trust myself but I sure as hell can
Trust me before I trust them.