not wanting to participate
yet needing to explain
redeem, avoid offending
all out of…
fear of rejection.
but of what?
of me?
my thoughts?
my rights?
of thinking along different fucking lines?
why bother?
why does this plague me?
when everyone can see
it’s boring, wrong, unnecessary
just be.
Wanker
We’re all fucking bankers
Or an artist of sorts
Painter, musician, actor
The lot
Stuck in this town
Chasing that dream
Does anyone remember
What that was again?
We know how to party
How to talk ’bout ourselves
It’s such a cliché
GOD it makes me sick
Yet I wanna join
I wanna be part
So desperate for a piece of
___________ (you fill in the blank)
Tuesday melodrama
Deflated, exhausted, worn and used up
I feel silly and stupid, like I’ve been spat out.
I’ve danced and I’ve partied and asked how you are
At the end of the day it’s all way too “raaaah”.
It was never my game, though I tried hard
I wore my best clothes, I lost many a card.
I even brought people, friends you might like
But at the end of the day I might not be the type.
I know that I’ve gained, but I’ve lost a lot too
Material things, oh and brain cells – a few!
This is how it is, but I wish I could phone
‘Cause at the end of the day I’m infatuation prone.
Not finished yet
when conversation
will never go beyond
how nice your dress is
and blending in feels ‘tractive,
normal,
friendlier
than the continuously stalling
non start of anything
when out of love,
hope,
normality,
curiosity
you make the openest of gestures
and they’re not thrown back in your face with answers
but ignored completely
as if they were just flat
spaces like all the others
like nothing happened
when talk that’s started
to provoke amusement
ends up in boring declarations of
sincerity
and you don’t know where to look
how awkward, how misinterpreted
when despite knowing it
you stubbornly, aggressively, obsessively
keep going the wrong way
pushing on and on
applying, begging
perversely pleasuring from others’
shiny, streamline happiness
whilst personally refusing to do the same
and when you get that
real sense of achievement
from finally waving a prescription
so you can say “I’ve made it
now. I’m one of them.”
-Kira Apfel
yet needing to explain
redeem, avoid offending
all out of…
fear of rejection.
but of what?
of me?
my thoughts?
my rights?
of thinking along different fucking lines?
why bother?
why does this plague me?
when everyone can see
it’s boring, wrong, unnecessary
just be.
Wanker
We’re all fucking bankers
Or an artist of sorts
Painter, musician, actor
The lot
Stuck in this town
Chasing that dream
Does anyone remember
What that was again?
We know how to party
How to talk ’bout ourselves
It’s such a cliché
GOD it makes me sick
Yet I wanna join
I wanna be part
So desperate for a piece of
___________ (you fill in the blank)
Tuesday melodrama
Deflated, exhausted, worn and used up
I feel silly and stupid, like I’ve been spat out.
I’ve danced and I’ve partied and asked how you are
At the end of the day it’s all way too “raaaah”.
It was never my game, though I tried hard
I wore my best clothes, I lost many a card.
I even brought people, friends you might like
But at the end of the day I might not be the type.
I know that I’ve gained, but I’ve lost a lot too
Material things, oh and brain cells – a few!
This is how it is, but I wish I could phone
‘Cause at the end of the day I’m infatuation prone.
Not finished yet
when conversation
will never go beyond
how nice your dress is
and blending in feels ‘tractive,
normal,
friendlier
than the continuously stalling
non start of anything
when out of love,
hope,
normality,
curiosity
you make the openest of gestures
and they’re not thrown back in your face with answers
but ignored completely
as if they were just flat
spaces like all the others
like nothing happened
when talk that’s started
to provoke amusement
ends up in boring declarations of
sincerity
and you don’t know where to look
how awkward, how misinterpreted
when despite knowing it
you stubbornly, aggressively, obsessively
keep going the wrong way
pushing on and on
applying, begging
perversely pleasuring from others’
shiny, streamline happiness
whilst personally refusing to do the same
and when you get that
real sense of achievement
from finally waving a prescription
so you can say “I’ve made it
now. I’m one of them.”
-Kira Apfel
