Fever Dream

I'm a wasteful, wasting, wanting weed.
I'm a plastic icon people hang on their rearview mirrors for good luck.

The other day, I was
walking down the street, and
I saw a girl wearing her scar.
A public official yelled
at her, saying,
'Hey! Cover that up! That's public indecency right there!'

I felt something stirring inside me then,
perhaps sympathy.
It made me nauseous, so I went and stole something.
Just walked into the store, snatched it off its shelf
and walked out.
They followed me with their eyes but made
only half-hearted attempts to capture me.
Some dork actually ran after me, saying, 'Hey! You can't do that!'
I just stood in the window next to the
mannequins, and he went right past me.

She sobs at me, croaking out heartbreaking things
like, 'Why are people so awful?'
I tell her none of it's her fault, and say,
'You can't stop people from just being
who they are. It's like trying to stop
the flames from consuming, the waves from dancing.'

She said, 'I feel like a vessel sometimes,
holding things for other places and other people.
Everything I touch only passes through me to something else,
nothing is ever truly mine.'
I said it's okay. 'I think we all do.
Most people have just learned to cover it up real well.'

Pavlov's dog and Shrodinger's cat
mated and had a baby, a pretty little thing.
And they took it away from me, took my baby
and killed it and stuffed it.
They put it in a museum and in the Macy's Parade,
as a reminder to not be so
special.

So why not embrace that hurt,
that truest of all emotions?
Happiness is fleeting, a light too hard to catch
between the tall trees;
anger buckles under its own dead weight eventually.
Apathy requires too much effort,
hate hurts your insides,
and love they've now put into small white pills,
twelve at a time trapped in their clear plastic skins.
So play along, take that hurt and tattoo it on your skin,
paint it in black lines around your eyes.

And sew my secret behind your lips before you turn off the light.

--
Apologies for the lack of focus. Again, 'twas late at night and I was feeling customarily loopy.