picky

i’ve never had a thick skin

never known, how to bounce off the bullets

and still not lose track of the beat

keep strumming

keep moving

and flip my hair, or i’m supposed to do

but instead i pick old animal instincts

like slivers from tender skin

instead i play sad songs on guitar

and feel like a god amongst men

’cause hard work, that i can do

and if life really is nothing but a mertiocracy, i think i can handle that

but i know it isn’t

i know nothing makes sense

i know i’ll never really know

why you said what you said

but i can still let it hit me

like a shockwave, let it squirm into my bones

you are a parasite

and a drug

and it’s all i can think about at night

and i’ve lost months on end of my life

to this slithering obsession

’cause if i could just make you happy

if i could make one person happy

there can’t be a cost-benefit equation to that, right?

so it’s worth it

it’s worth the mud on my knees

and it’s worth bloodletting treatments

to get the demon out from under my skin

worth bug bites

and cuts and scrapes and bruises

it’s worth all of it

for that look on your face

when i read my words

just. so.

and your peach tea love

washed over me in waves

left me sticky-sweet and gross

but it’s the gesture that counts, really

there’s not a lot to go around

i’m not gonna be picky

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