Inspired by "I Am The Antichrist To You" by Kishi Bashi
The song that's playing
casts a brutal light
on all my ungotten wanting.
All the pain I've pushed down
with drink or smoke,
ingested and exhaled,
vaccinated my broken heart.
Lied--said it wasn't there,
said it left, and that it's now resolved,
and shrugged off,
explained away is if it's understood.
But my pain is like a little-me,
A guy who doesn't want to admit he's hurt,
who will not ask for help--
a living soldier amongst the dead,
on the battlefield,
pretending he is one of them,
so he won't have to put a hand up,
and admit defeat, give in to the loss.
I'm scared to look in the mirror
because I'm not the person
I thought I would become--
and there are mirrors everywhere.
I've come so far
but there's still so far to go,
ages more, after my ashes blow away
like sawdust by a fan.
The forms I once held
crumble and dissolve, loose onto the air,
Empires will rise and fall
as I shift into different lives
and I'll finally become the shovel
that buries the dirt over who I once was.
I stretch out in this field
showing all wounds,
Ones perceived, and ones incurred
ones unfairly wrought
and ones deserved.
And when all's said, done, you're taught--
that some things that glitter
really are gold,
but the best things in life
Can't be bought.