you must be three hundred feet high. it must be the
lonliest place in the city. so open. buzzing with
industrial noises. human traffic. delivery vehicles
hundreds of miles from their destination. three cars
parked above the city. somewhere where the owner
thought nobody would break in. i dont break in. i
wanna break free. this so called life in this so
called city or anywhere. youd think that the buzzing
would notice me but it doesnt. i could have
swallowed paracetamol. or aspirin. or sliced my
wrists instead of my legs. but i didnt. i chose to
find you. up so high. high in your so called
acceptance. of friendship and money and shadows and
god. of hurt. of next weeks schedule. or the blood
rushing to your head. can you feel lonely hanging
your lifeless head over the edge of a very tall
building. deep in the modern void that birthed and
swallowed you. this experiment is ending [and i know
that this track is ending]. anatomy of change. serotonin
shaped tattoo on your neck [where he first kissed
me]. is it love if i let go. or in letting go [where
i swallowed] do i open up another conversation that
we felt we never had. a secret i told you. the nurse
that unzipped my jeans. high on lysergic acid.
you must be a first prize fighter. or a hell bent sociopath. to survive [or appear to survive, for appearence is all but ten percent of achievement]. in this climate.
marlajade