11:33 a.m. - 04/03/03
shh.
I'm going to talk about it. Really. I am. I just want my head to stop spinning first.
*
(This is about several million people, some of whom are male. Please don't personalize it.)
my empathy could be
the death of me
if I let it
if I don't, I may live
to regret
the upset of spontaneous
emotion, devotion
premature
so that I have no say
in who she is
or how much I care
about her
regarding me:
I have antennae, invisible
so even I can't see
how possessed I am
by her rhythm
how lost inside
something not my own
blindness offers no escape to me
I cover my eyes
the pain finds other entrances
other portals, glues
itself to my skin
I try to avoid her knowing
she is where I end
but not wanting to know
I begin in her also
not wanting to know
that I could be that heavily
invested
bested before I ever was aware
of where we were.
me and (every version of) her.
I didn't know until after I'd made my choice
that one existed
therefore, one never was.
because the more weary I grow
below the weight
of other people's pain
the more I know
I would not have made
so brave a step
could I go back
and never see you
I would
live to regret
but live
and I never promised to be
strong enough to give
freely, strong enough
not to give, give, give
below the pressure of this force.
if I could go back I'd pay
small prices for a carefree life:
guilt. solitude. remorse...
chord
�
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