Jan 2014
Don't you worry,
I know which days to hurt on.
I don't need a calendar
Or any fanfare.
You can try to hide them from me
(I always wonder if it's a kindness or a cruelty...
I decide I like to think you're protecting me.)
But in the end my bones know
The days to feel like chalk
My veins know
The days to ache in that peculiarly itching way
My stomach knows
Those days on which to feel sick with disgust
My heart knows
Which days to break on, all over again.
My bones know.
Sometimes I don't realize it
Sometimes my mind
Has no idea
But my body always tells me anyhow,
And if I deny it enough, I can always come up with some manufactured explanations
Not quite right, not quite tidy
For the tightness in my throat
On days like this.
They feel flimsy and cheap though,
And I don't believe them so much as use them like slipcovers
To keep the garish truth from peaking out from underneath.
Because when I know
I know
Cause being intuitive's not all it's cracked up to be.
In an information age
The only use for a sixth sense is self mutilation of the mind-
It's a curse that only warns and warns and warns
And forces you to live in fear and pain,
And no matter how you run from or bury or get around it,
You know
You know you're lying to yourself
You know because you always know
Because that's what you do-
Know.
You can't imagine the horrible things I've tried not to see
And failed.
Wonder why I worry
When all my worries are really just advance warnings,
And forgive me if telling myself it'll be okay sounds a little thin
When my bones know it won't be.
I tried not to know the day you said yes.
I tried and failed.
Felt it in my skin like fire ants
Underneath,
A new hate, a new wound, vicious and ugly,
A new pain that felt like someone sliced me open to the marrow and branded secret words in all the little hollows.
And eventually I faced the reality that I knew you'd left me long before you ever let on.
Like I know everything that hurts me
But can never avoid it:
The only difference between knowing and not knowing
Is how long it hurts
Cause life is a runaway train and whoever's steering
300 mph towards the nearest concrete wall,
It sure ain't me,
And it sure ain't The Plan
And my bones
Know.
You never fooled me.
You never do.
You give me the kindness of trying
And I give you my cooperation
But the truth is
You've never hurt me behind closed doors.
Thank you for giving it your all, love, but I always know.
I feel every second of it
Real time
And find the explanations later,
Scattered like weapons and bodies after a battle,
Making perfect, searing sense.
And I bury my head in the sand
Try never to fully understand-
Even though I'm loathe to preach a lie
And let it echo through the temple of my soul-
Because I know that if I don't look away
The truth will burn my eyes out of my skull.
Knowing ain't all it's cracked up to be
When the knowing can't change the end game,
And yet
Scattered like twigs and just as brittle
On days like this
My bones
*Know.
I know which days to hurt on.
I don't need a calendar
Or any fanfare.
You can try to hide them from me
(I always wonder if it's a kindness or a cruelty...
I decide I like to think you're protecting me.)
But in the end my bones know
The days to feel like chalk
My veins know
The days to ache in that peculiarly itching way
My stomach knows
Those days on which to feel sick with disgust
My heart knows
Which days to break on, all over again.
My bones know.
Sometimes I don't realize it
Sometimes my mind
Has no idea
But my body always tells me anyhow,
And if I deny it enough, I can always come up with some manufactured explanations
Not quite right, not quite tidy
For the tightness in my throat
On days like this.
They feel flimsy and cheap though,
And I don't believe them so much as use them like slipcovers
To keep the garish truth from peaking out from underneath.
Because when I know
I know
Cause being intuitive's not all it's cracked up to be.
In an information age
The only use for a sixth sense is self mutilation of the mind-
It's a curse that only warns and warns and warns
And forces you to live in fear and pain,
And no matter how you run from or bury or get around it,
You know
You know you're lying to yourself
You know because you always know
Because that's what you do-
Know.
You can't imagine the horrible things I've tried not to see
And failed.
Wonder why I worry
When all my worries are really just advance warnings,
And forgive me if telling myself it'll be okay sounds a little thin
When my bones know it won't be.
I tried not to know the day you said yes.
I tried and failed.
Felt it in my skin like fire ants
Underneath,
A new hate, a new wound, vicious and ugly,
A new pain that felt like someone sliced me open to the marrow and branded secret words in all the little hollows.
And eventually I faced the reality that I knew you'd left me long before you ever let on.
Like I know everything that hurts me
But can never avoid it:
The only difference between knowing and not knowing
Is how long it hurts
Cause life is a runaway train and whoever's steering
300 mph towards the nearest concrete wall,
It sure ain't me,
And it sure ain't The Plan
And my bones
Know.
You never fooled me.
You never do.
You give me the kindness of trying
And I give you my cooperation
But the truth is
You've never hurt me behind closed doors.
Thank you for giving it your all, love, but I always know.
I feel every second of it
Real time
And find the explanations later,
Scattered like weapons and bodies after a battle,
Making perfect, searing sense.
And I bury my head in the sand
Try never to fully understand-
Even though I'm loathe to preach a lie
And let it echo through the temple of my soul-
Because I know that if I don't look away
The truth will burn my eyes out of my skull.
Knowing ain't all it's cracked up to be
When the knowing can't change the end game,
And yet
Scattered like twigs and just as brittle
On days like this
My bones
*Know.
