To anybody who asks if I'm making these more and more confusing on purpose...the answer is 'Prickly pineapple'.
89. metamorphosis
in an evershifting world of change where nothing is stable and nothing remains solid and every time we meet my eyes are a different colour and my hair's a different length and my body's a different shape and my skin's a different hue and my voice is a different tone, in a world that he can manipulate with the sparks that i hate in a world where only animosity remains the same...
why do i trust him?
everything shifts under our feet.
he's not changing me, i'm not changing him, it's a simple moment of metamorphosis. equivalent exchange.
everything shifts under our feet.
i smile. smirk. laugh. mock. pretend it's nothing. and then the next moment i offer myself up to him, because i want to feel his real touch on my real skin and at first he's surprised, unsure, and then he picks me up and i'm so goddamn weak and i hate hate hate hate it...
don't worry. and something about butterflies.
i don't give a fuck about goddamn butterflies.
but everything shifts under our feet.
the sky changes, the earth changes. everything changes so this, too, shall pass and i'll feel like i'm made of something more than glass. (so transparent it's apparent that i'm fading.)
(sometimes i take his shape, try to see the world through his eyes, try to see the shades of grey and the rainbow hues i must be missing)
(sometimes i wonder what he'd do if he could take mine)
i can't change the worm inside though so i'll burrow into the earth and wait until it's all over and maybe then he can fix me
(you don't need fixing don't be silly)
but that's just another change he's brought, that he's wrought, and I CAN'T FUCKING THINK STRAIGHT
just need to...
(break it open and start again)
just need to break this shell open and start again. that's it. just break it open and start again.
see that white smile.
because he has all the answers.
break it open and start again
everything shifts under my feet.