All I want is a jean jacket. Thrift store artifact, sweet patches across my back. A denim life raft to have and to hold against an ocean of horror. But if I can just look okay maybe I’ll feel okay about all that’s killing me.
All I want is to write this song. Fast forward to applause, validate my lost cause. Puke down the well just let it go, one cup emptied to fill another. But if I can sputter to the end of this spell maybe I can for a moment conjure something that seems a little better than me.
And all I want is somebody at my side, positioned between myself and the mirror so that I appear invisible. To absorb, deflect and to feed me, and dissociate from the act of living in this body. But if I can just tear the old temple down maybe I can shape some new space where there’s no room for god to curse me.
Slayer patches, Misfits patches, red squares, anarchist flags, "I <3 HATERS" belts... I've got a million fucking signifiers of my critical capabilities. But I just stand or sit here in my jean jacket. These days I just dissociate in my jean jacket.
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