When I think about the turn of events
My thoughts are incoherent, as if someone has shaken my skull
My brain sloshing like ice cubes in soda
It's hardly emotion, more like a reaction
Knee-jerk sadness without understanding
(the situation slightly humdrum, but to me,
soul-shattering with just two words)
I notice about my existence:
Magnets.
Pulling me from one second to another
Grounding me on this mortal coil
A steady magnet pull towards some godunknown end
But sometimes I feel like life isn't sure
Where it wants to pull me
So it squirms back and forth, like a Great Dane
Walking me, rather than me walking it
Sometimes I feel that those steady yanking magnets confuse themselves
Something little happens
(Someone coughs, or sighs),
and miniscule breezes
Turn the magnets on their heads
Like that movie The Butterfly Effect
And suddenly it's opposite day!
And suddenly I'm caught in its crossfire
The wounded kid you see on TV with
A bloody leg stump and ashes on her cheeks
I've always said my life
Is a series of self-sabotaging events
Half in jest
It's because I can't control anything; fucking magnets
Are unmoveable statues, with roots like ancient oak trees
(Though I wear my arms out trying)
Yanked around by magnets, a rag doll
Emotion is just a manifestation of the whiplash |