i wanted to visit my ancestors,
so i stepped up to the gate.
i was told “You must be
/this/ dark to be let into this space,
see, there aren’t many people
here that we can match
up to your face,
and by the look of your skin
we couldn’t be certain
you’ve ever felt the sun’s grace,
we’ve seen many colours
but you are another,
do you really belong in this place?”

i wanted to visit my ancestors,
so i stepped up to the door.
i was told “You must be
/this/ light to walk up onto our shores,
see, we saw your curls and thought
Black Pete had come up
from the moors,
and you're familiar,
but that foreign tongue’s
taken several points off your score,
we were only one colour,
there's no room for any others,
so what are you coming to us for?”

i wanted to visit my ancestors
but i wasn’t sure where to go.
they’d shut me out, left me in doubt,
and i was in limbo.
i thought i’d had a birthright,
some kind of claim to make,
i didn’t think that i would be
so easy to forsake.
i hadn’t convinced the ghosts,
and there was nothing left for me,
so i packed my things, tore my branch down,
and went to sow my own tree.

You are my ghostly apparition in the night,
appearing when I close my eyes.
I don't know if I'm dreaming,
or if this is the cold, hard reality.
I'm sorry-
I can't finish that sentence,
I need to say it. I need to-
Deep breaths.
One...Two...Three
I'm sorry that you feel the need to be with me.
There. I said it.
I am sorry that you are watching over me.
I am sorry.
I need to tell you something.
Are you here?
I can't feel you anymore.
Please, have you left me alone?
I'm grateful, I truly am.
But you need to go now.
I don't need to be watched over any longer,
your job is done.
I-
No, I can't say it.
Oh, Vengeful Spirit,
apparatus of my despair.
I-
I love you, but you don't belong here-
with me.
I don't know who you are,
but I ask of you-
No, I'm begging you,
Let me go.

Emptiness is what’s best.
Emptiness is what’s desired.
Happiness goes and sadness comes.
But the emptiness just stays there.

Isn’t the predictability of that better than anything else?
Why should I risk being happy when I know it will end?
And when it does, oh how it’ll hurt
So tell me, why would I set myself up?

They don’t know what happened.
They don’t know what’s in my mind.
And yet they have the audacity to try and fix me.
They try to make the decision that is supposed to be mine.

For a time I stayed true to the person inside.
Then I gave in and for the sake of the people outside, I lied.
I pretended to forget and made a bubble of content.  
I turned a blind eye and when my demons came I peacefully slept

Then the nightmares came back and so did the paranoia.
But no one could know because then they would ask.
All those memories have to go, but for a while, I’ll keep them close.
I’ll allow my mind to be caressed by my old sinful friends that I want so much to be dead.

Later, when I bury them all, I’ll line the exterior of my soul with protective poison.
And inside? Well, there'll be absolutely nothing.
I’ll become empty, just as desired.
Unfortunately, I know that’ll leave room for the ghosts.

These downers have me laying in bed watching light flares float across my room like the ghosts of my past float across my eyelids.
And I’m convinced these drugs aren’t going to get you out of my head anymore.

The rooms too hot and I’m too cold and I’m crawling towards the kitchen begging for someone to get me some ****** water but then I remember....
it’s just me as usual.

I get up and take control of the situation and find some uppers in the hall and ask myself if maybe we can work through this or maybe I’m just high enough to think you’re still around.

I’m drowning in a bathtub full of rose petals I found under the sink and I’m staring at the water drip down the shower walls as I watch my inevitable breakdown drip down my eyelids.

I guess I’m convinced these drugs just made things worse and I’m convinced I gotta get my **** together... I gotta get myself together.