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la belle indifférence

de foxtails

On the floor, petrified
By phobias in mind’s eye
I fantasize of white lies
To broadcast for peace of mind

Wish there was some comfort I
Haven’t heard before

I feel nothing left
I mourn for a gift of words
I feel nothing left
I mourn being immature

Walking right, walking fine
Say hello, say goodbye
(How I miss the sunlight)

Clumsy head, wandered off
Forgive the words, they might be lost
(Before you walk you learn to crawl)

Bandaged wounds, bandaged heart
Beating strong it falls apart
(Blood fills the hollow only for so long)

Suffocate, suffocate
Another space to desecrate
(Uprooted, I do not belong)

Constantly wandering
With willpower I would disappear
Pushed down and pondering
The consequence of letting go of fear
To go on with paper cuts
And let every movement sting to the core
Reminded of every touch
Imprinted on skin and broken soul

I ask for nothing more
Than release in any of its forms

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