Shoes

I won’t ever have diamonds on the soles of my shoes
That’s an amount of pressure that I could never exude
That’s the kind of wealth that I am averse to
That’s the kind of wealth that separates you from your ordinary shoes.
I don’t want to slide into anything fancy
Even the thought makes me antsy
I’ll wear my battered runners until they’re molded by the rain
Until they’re drenched in takeaway and paint stains
Until they lose all semblance of vigour
Until they’re broken and disfigured.

Falling

Feeling some kind of way these days
Just a bundle of energy and mangled nerves
Feeling delicate while feeling impenetrable
Feeling cocky yet feeling entirely droppable

Staring at my self in the mirror
Acknowledging every single flaw
And accepting anything I find agreeable
Acknowledging that it’s never simple
The glass is not half empty, the glass is not half full.
Cudi says he stares at Scott, knowing that he’s all he’s got
When I look in the mirror I know not who I am, but who I’m not.

Consumption will not fuel me
Aesthetics won’t sate me
Clacking on a keyboard, like Alexander Hamilton
Maybe I could write my way out
Utilise vocabulary and unload it like a gun
Maybe I can outrun and out-rationalise all this doubt
I need to stop waiting for someone to come and save me
I am not a boat lost at sea.

The job done

I lay down by myself at night, sometimes heavy breathing.
Grinding my teeth to the bone, somehow always seething
A delicate disposition affords you no fucking freedom
“you’ve got so many opportunities”, I can’t even see them
I look at my phone, signal of distress
Everywhere you look a new total mess
Myanmar, the U.S., or India
Lying figureheads and a half truth media
Powerless, there’s nothing to be done
We just wait and melt under a rip-roaring sun
Choose this life of living under the gun
Or choose a life of living under the thumb.
Two choices but they’re both the same
Forget about your future, forget your own name
There’s no use in rising, there’s no use in blame
You can play but you can’t win the game.