Stop the Fucking Car
"Cut me gently, cut me out"
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The morning is too far to remember, too cold to like, too tiring to feel nice. I'm ready to shut off.
I don't really want to talk. I don't really want to see faces. I don't really want anything real.
I keep my arms and legs folded in molds that seem to keep me at peace around human contact. So that seems to be working out for me.
Why was I so over the top when I got home? I feel fine raising my voice of the second, but never the third second. I slugged the rest of the way and hoped I didn't have to uncurl.
The fourth minute passed and I gladly missed the first. And if you want, I'll miss tomorrow's. I've missed every day anyway.
Wait for my hands to thaw, and they warm and soften. I would've never guessed me to be something.
Not really.
I don't really want to talk. I don't really want to see faces. I don't really want anything real.
I keep my arms and legs folded in molds that seem to keep me at peace around human contact. So that seems to be working out for me.
Why was I so over the top when I got home? I feel fine raising my voice of the second, but never the third second. I slugged the rest of the way and hoped I didn't have to uncurl.
The fourth minute passed and I gladly missed the first. And if you want, I'll miss tomorrow's. I've missed every day anyway.
Wait for my hands to thaw, and they warm and soften. I would've never guessed me to be something.
Not really.
_
