Feb 2020
Hey Darwin,
Its all about survival now isn't it ?
Well why the **** am I chasing after knives
If it's true that all creatures want is to stay alive
Well why then Why
Am I such a human paradox
He read me a poem he wrote that night we broke up
Told me he was all sharp edges and I- all soft edges
In this sort of metaphorical way, he always spoke in mazes
He told me he was hurting me too much he couldn’t do it
And my soft edged life- he couldn’t dare misconstrue it
Of course he hurt me, I was bleeding everywhere all the time
I had cuts on my chest, on my hands, on my lips
He sliced open my heart, my mind, and my hips
My heart beat faster than ever; there were waterfalls of blood rushing
I always knew his sharp edges were there
I felt them on his chest and in his overgrown beard
I felt them in his fragile ego, distracted gazes, lost in thought moments…. It was weird
Hey Darwin? Is this what survival is?
Staying up until 5 am with him
Watching sunrise; drowning in existentialism
Still sleepless; still more cuts; still bleeding
He was as aspiring song writer
Drummer, hip hop dancer?Wanted to be an artist, but also get a Phd, or on other days a real job
But maybe he wasn’t real enough for a day job
Whatever, probably he wasn’t
He had sharp edges and bottles of antidepressants
Lived in a foul scented basement apartment with no windows and no kitchen
Hey Darwin?
That doesn’t seem to fit the theory
This sharped knife love- may seem to you kind of scary
Well….
Sometimes still now, I think of his knives and smile
I just want them back to stab me, wake me up once in a while
From my perfunctory lifestyle
My cycle of routine, my wake up, go to bed just to wake up again
Hey Darwin?
Back with him, I was all cut up, sleepless, and starvin
And he was in no way my prince charmin
But in two thousand nineteen, I wasn't looking to survive
I was just a bored white girl; Seeking ways to feel alive
Its all about survival now isn't it ?
Well why the **** am I chasing after knives
If it's true that all creatures want is to stay alive
Well why then Why
Am I such a human paradox
He read me a poem he wrote that night we broke up
Told me he was all sharp edges and I- all soft edges
In this sort of metaphorical way, he always spoke in mazes
He told me he was hurting me too much he couldn’t do it
And my soft edged life- he couldn’t dare misconstrue it
Of course he hurt me, I was bleeding everywhere all the time
I had cuts on my chest, on my hands, on my lips
He sliced open my heart, my mind, and my hips
My heart beat faster than ever; there were waterfalls of blood rushing
I always knew his sharp edges were there
I felt them on his chest and in his overgrown beard
I felt them in his fragile ego, distracted gazes, lost in thought moments…. It was weird
Hey Darwin? Is this what survival is?
Staying up until 5 am with him
Watching sunrise; drowning in existentialism
Still sleepless; still more cuts; still bleeding
He was as aspiring song writer
Drummer, hip hop dancer?Wanted to be an artist, but also get a Phd, or on other days a real job
But maybe he wasn’t real enough for a day job
Whatever, probably he wasn’t
He had sharp edges and bottles of antidepressants
Lived in a foul scented basement apartment with no windows and no kitchen
Hey Darwin?
That doesn’t seem to fit the theory
This sharped knife love- may seem to you kind of scary
Well….
Sometimes still now, I think of his knives and smile
I just want them back to stab me, wake me up once in a while
From my perfunctory lifestyle
My cycle of routine, my wake up, go to bed just to wake up again
Hey Darwin?
Back with him, I was all cut up, sleepless, and starvin
And he was in no way my prince charmin
But in two thousand nineteen, I wasn't looking to survive
I was just a bored white girl; Seeking ways to feel alive
