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Bubbles


blind-fitter

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I don't know what to make of this: it's a little something I've scribbled down at work this morning. It should probably be regarded as a "work in progress".

************************************

You are their kin,

Inside their skin

You crawl, you swim

Through arteries,

Such muddy seas.

To infect yourself

With their disease

The poetry of isolation

Is a dead-end,

But, (in your mind)

Touches parts

That other fears cannot reach.

Desperately you cling to myths,

To justify the lies (you tell yourself).

Scars are worn like badges.

For the best: a prize.

Wretched?

Know what hurt is?

Your precious torment, (yeah, go on...)

Despair? Self-loathing?

It's in your clothing.

You're blowing bubbles.

Sham pain.

*************************

I have my own views on this, but they're under wraps for now. Interested to know what anyone else thinks.

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Well, I like it. The first stanza feels a bit odd until you read the entire thing, and then the last stanza bookends it nicely.

It's angry, but I would expect nothing less from a punk. :) My favorite couplet:

"Despair? Self-loathing?

It's in your clothing."

Good stuff.

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The 1st stanza really does point to that though. What were you thinking when you wrote that bit??. What does it mean to you??.

I'm disinclined to demystify the lyric too much...However the opening verse alludes (rather obliquely, I admit) to the phenomenon of someone's abnormal desire to live inside someone else's body, in order to vicariously experience their existence.

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  • 1 month later...

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