whatever.

I am the nylon light That sheds Grattitude With kindness To your fortress In honor There's a certain power that comes in realizing that you don't give a fuck anymore— Whether you win or lose— Succeed or fail— Whether you live or die. There's a certain kind of magic in the chaos that comes from the world's own utter confusion in not knowing how to react to a fully volitile ticking time bomb. When you get finished with being fucked with— And you realize the greatest of all evils—the thing fucking with you—is somehow still also yourself— you give up and give in to the torture that becomes knowing that in a world where there's everything— you were made to be from nothing. I can't tell. I think I'm still sweating, but I don't know. Could just be my hair; I pat my head with the towel and feel my hair with the palm of my hand—No, I'm still sweating profusely. Whatever. I'm too fat. I slept the night away and woke up later than usual again—came one half mile short of my usual cardio routine before dashing upstairs for my weekly phone meeting—I made strawberry and oat whole wheat pancakes the day before. I was a size 5-slash-6. I needed to be a size two. If you could make me feel. I wouldn't be standing here Looking for a way to feel I would be Walking by Looking for a reason to live I wouldn't be standing here Craving a book to fill the cases I've emptied Or the crimes that I've drafted The tears on my pillow The time that I've wasted The scars on my lips Or the release in my heart I'm counting the reasons to smile The words to a song still forming On my crumbled mind You wanted a story; On fast approach, I wrote one Trying not to belong here whatever. -whatever EP. The Festival Project.™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.