06 fevereiro 2012

sankhu, january 2068


i’m not here
it’s not me
it’s this it’s again
it’s something else
    taking over
    taking control
dominating

it’s the excuse
to not be
    not think
    not feel
    not be
it’s the escape
running running away
    from what it’s not part of the it’s

it’s the it’s
    but not me
it’s too much of me
insecure and lost soul

it’s pretending
    bending in anxiety
    giving up the fight
    not even starting it

it’s a lot
    so it becomes nothing, the whole issue of nothing.
it damages the present
it erases what it’s now

it’s lost words trying to escape the escape
    going around, around
    where it has been before
    knowing there’s no happy ending
    but pretending and faking one

it’s to much of me
lost somewhere, everywhere i go
    everywhere i am.
it’s escaping to darkness, hoping to find light
    knowing…
        again…
            knowing there’s no any

it’s just so i don’t feel
    just so i don’t have to deal

it’s the pathetic knowing of all
the before and the after
    but still going, still hiding
still not here.
not even knowing where here is,
    not even trying, not even wanting to try

it’s again and again… and again
    it’s not knowing…
        the fear of not knowing
            the not acceptance of not knowing

asking for answers,
    not knowing the questions

it’s paralysing.

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