Fin.

Published October 27, 2021 by April Fox
There ain't a single drop of sorrow in this 
I haven't felt a thing for two years now
  (up until last week, and that was mostly physical
    --and we don't need to talk about that, do we?
you weren't there.)

The house is hazy and there's a whole new type of woodsmoke dripping
from my veins

Who knew you could make so much room
in the front seat of a Mazda 5?

Let's be quiet about this
hide in the dark from the shit you're too small and I'm too big
to say

I'd set it all on fire but I'd just have to clean up 
the ashes

"You can own the stage
but the lights and glares 
will not make you real."
    --Margot and the Nuclear So and So's wrote that line
and it always felt like pulling me into a centrifuge

Spotlight dead center, focused on me
trying to pretend to give a shit about the covers and the 
Super Cool Radio Rock (soon to be) Hits!

Bored
out of my
arrogant
little
skull.

Feeling like the Cheshire Cat
invisible aside from the big
fake
smile
and the psychedelic fur.
I pulled out my phone before I knew, started to text my friend
    I don't think I love him anymore.

Saying it felt like sacrilege
and I wiped the screen clean
and shoved reality off to the side
one more fucking time.
Sold all the way out and still don't have shit
and here he is
walking behind me all the way up the street
just because I'll let him

You can own the stage
and it don't mean shit
if everyone around you 
is only a prop. 

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