Connecting the dots

I'd like to tell you
i'm surviving but not breathing
not now, not yet.
you know
it's been pretty difficult
to be confused all the time.
consider this.
my demons, my angels,
my perfect halo, my desire
to succumb to myself again,
soulless, weird, naked, disform.
i'm filled with strange things
and i don't know who
or what put this in me.

after the magic and the music,
we are all the same.
it's time to intoxicate myself.
it's time to turn my blood
into madness because
i refuse to give in,
because i want to choose
my own chaos.

and if you can,
help me to carry myself
as the bullets fall.
and if you can,
help me to break my heart again
but don't complain if it doesn't open.
blame the inflation, the new changes,
the politics, the system, the strikes.
i am afraid. i am still afraid
of being who i was.
if you see me as i see myself,
shhhhh...
let me use my sorrow to justify
my mystery.
i feel everything and it's horrible.
i hate the voices inside my head.
i hate to be close to the window:
flying is so inviting.
here we are crawling, crawling
into nothingness.
and i hate to be where we are.
and i hate this life suffocating me
in shifts.

i'd like to tell you
i have come too far
to come back.

karla bardanza