Too many acute lights,
repetition and sound,
too many screams,
too many laughs and the police car,
hurt my ears,
hurt my eyes I need a black hole,
too many fake colours, no shade,
no shape, where is life?
I hit the wall, I hit the ceiling,
I hit and hide I don’t fit,
I don’t know the dance,
nobody taught me the moves,
I hit people people hurt me.
I don’t know how to fit anymore, my filter is off,
I can see and I see that it is painful to see.
Nothing makes sense, air and ground,
all fake all traced all choreographed.
My switch is off, I’m dysfunctioning,
unplugged or deplugged,
I can’t pretend anymore,
I used to know the moves, did I?
Wasn’t I giving up to the play I knew it was fake, I knew I was acting.
My switch is off,
I don’t know how to not care anymore, I don’t know how to choose to ignore anymore
and I don’t know how to deal with it and find a way to fit.
I don’t have a line anymore, I disappear under one more layer, I’m just a witness.
I come back home breathless and crack.
Big city life.