There’s a knife in my hand And I’m standing stiff in the dressing room like a cat in a rainstorm Because the lace in the dress smells like my open casket and my mom made me wear it anyway
And I don’t know what I’m waiting for or Why this room seems so small But the lights are buzzing (Or maybe it’s just my head)
And my skin feels like the sound of course papers sliding over each other or the squeak of my breaks in the middle of the intersection And I know I can try to scream but there’s cotton in my mouth and I don’t know why I want to anyway
So instead I’ll take this blade and Carve other people’s names into the glass of the mirror Because it’s nice to leave scars that don’t belong to me
There’s a knife in my hand And I’m caught in the gyre that I swear is going to drown me but When I look around everyone's above water
TURNING and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.*
In a time such as this, in darkening days Without screeching witches Frightened banshees, buggered old men Searching for solace, eyes streaming with icicle-lust- Gangrene facebook: torn-up, shredded twitter
The cries of the disconnected, Wailing! Wailing!
In a time like this, in darkening days, The disconnections come in waves!
Searching for reason amongst the unreasoning, Hunting for sanity within the insane, Identifying the dead from amongst the living.
Email excreting venom Internet exfoliating lies-politicians wrapped In deceit- A cold time of it, a wretched time of it.
Only within our hearts does hope lie. Only there Away from conflict and disorder Away From the capricious cacophony of biased debate.