A king withdraws into his castle his eyes drawn out while sitting on the throne now I'm not a king I'm just an ******* but I do know what it's like to sit at home not knowing what's going on a court jester growing con shows I don't belong to the awaiting bombs so I move along.
I need time and space I'll wait in line there's no race just a loss of grace that needs to be replaced this isn't ideal but I need to heal from the hamster wheel of ample feels like despair over what went wrong shame which is my only law pain is there and is raw so I withdraw like a sick fawn without its skinned mom.
The doors to my eyes are shut as long as I'm stuck in this lousy rut building walls of muck as blinders for a buck who isn't racing only running from those chasing and gunning but there's no way to dispel Satan himself a turtle withdraws into its shell laying precariously on the freeway it knows what awaits is hell but it can't peel away because it sees a way it can be in play.
Seasons slink I need to think while on the brink of an overcast downfall I put up a sound wall to ignore the ground's call asking me to withdraw into its halls where I'd switch all the things I've acquired in life for eternal night an infernal fight to do what's right and keep the damage inner temptation says come hither that wily wyvern always gives burns but I never will learn that my plans of stillbirth cause a fiery chill hurt.
I'm in a delicate state and need to deflate no need to debate please for my sake give me a break I need to escape the chaos in which I'm way lost like the sky that is grey glossed and the ground made of clay frost we all have the same boss whose favorite move is a flame toss.
The withdraw gets worse turning into a curse I'm living in a hearse willing to see the dirt I feel it flirt beckoning me to my reckoning everyone else is seconding that motion so I withdraw into an ocean made entirely of land the soil I scan only to find desert sand passing through my hands to show I'm ******.
Time goes by as withdrawn I had delusions I could fly they were just withdrawn lies to make me try despite belonging on the ground completely covered by the color brown with a scent that could gag a hound so when I finally look around no one is there they've withdrawn into pairs making me stop and stare yearning for tender care so I shoot a flare into the air but it withdraws back into my gun like the blacked out sun telling me I'm done and the withdraw won.
My brain is stuck in cruise And sometimes I get lost Lost on words and emotions Stuck on what I should be feelin Head poundin and medication low My brain is stuck in cruise Just goin with the flow Maybe I am addicted Or maybe this is withdraw But baby I am stuck Stuck on words to stay to you
right hand - cack hand misinfected an inebriant a heat of intoxicants 'Recover Your Presence Of Mind' i don't even have my mattress raised from upon the floor spilled drinks moulds and pages soaked to the boarding snoring in spores infested with messages in nest with it all best to withdraw
the artist the 'madder than' the inebriant right ? can one practice as a sober ? I've never wanted to create more or been this capable before...or are the results missing something ? something splayed askew scatty splattered hellish even ? is it the reader ? will we not be pleased with the results without some evidence of a soul in suffering bewilderment and numbing isolation?
I didn't notice until it was to late for me to change my fate You used me for your twisted uses until you got bored It was like a withdraw You left me when you had someone new to play your twisted game with I didn't understand I guess I didn't get the memo Because the day you left I still tried to say hello
'pon your voyages through my mind mingling with memories cruel and kind, amongst the shattered dreams that do lay 'neath darkened clouds so distant away. Amidst the chaos of random thoughts strands of discord forged and sought, chasing nightmares you must flee the ugliness deep inside of me. Be you close or be you far, Please think of Me, wherever you are.
How I wish to disappear completely, to unplug fully, til I shut down-deep-withdrawn and there focus on something that's more internal and less commercial, less self-evidently marketable - something less brand and more a brand new venture, out of sight, of mind and of a sense of duty to myself, to the me I left behind - somewhere less, somewhere small, where the music inside was clearer and nearer to the first bars of the first song when I first sang along. Oh, how can I disappear completely and get myself ready for my next swan song?
Inspired by the graphic novel 'How to disappear completely' by Si Smith.