This is what she does when I brush my teeth in the morning. You try to say no to it.
And sometimes I’m just terrified
That maybe the world is more dull than I perceive it to be
My ultra-sensitive, unmedicated, totally APE SHIP
OOO EEEE pound on my primordial tits
Or maybe love doesn’t actually taste like anything
Maybe candles don’t flicker because something else besides air and blood decides to move in me
Or maybe my legs trembled around him not because I loved him but because I loved the space that wasn’t fucking empty anymore
Because emptiness is less sensatiable than
Maybe pain and pleasure really are just neurons and receptors and flashing little lightnings running under another little boring boxed in
Or cells, thousands of them
Where the touch of skin on skin is all the same if you just keep your fucking eyes shut
So tell me, please, is it just the hormonal fucking chemical imbalance of my brain because I’m a little whacked after a few days off the
RATTLE, RATTLE, RATTLE
That which makes strawberries and chocolate taste like heartache in summer
That which makes the same freezing sound of waves smell like the loss of my virginity
Don’t take me to the ocean, yo
It isn’t fucking pretty
Because it shouldn’t be normal for feelings to make you feel so completely isolated.
Because for some fucked up reason, God
Or maybe it was nature or some shit that really all means the same nothingness at the end of the fucking argument
Made this someone feel something that turned love into metaphor instead of simile or metonym or any other fucking form of figurative language that actually makes more sense
In some sensible way
How many lines should I group together again?
And if it was survival of the fittest, what’s with my existence?
Because I would like to shake the hand of Darwin and then shoot dead
Every motherfucking bird on that fucking island
Emminem, that kind of reminded me of him
Oh, Ms.Hill, oh saintly Pablo, oh you suicidal maniacs, Bob Dylan, Jesus Christ, Michelangelo