I have deconstructed myself to the point that I am no longer human I am but I a series of metaphors vaguely linked by the idea of feminity.
I am a disgusting performative version of what I wish I was.
I am an idea in your head.
I used to feel comfortable when I slept,
But I don't anymore,
I keep on having nightmares,
As cheesey as that sounds.
I'm always in a forest,
And I'm being held in the arms of a woman a ginger woman,
I don't know why but I always start running,
The trees become a maze they tangle themselves together and block my path,
Suddenly the trees are bricks and suddenly the bricks are mirrors,
I have no choice but to look at myself,
Be surrounded by myself,
And then I wake up.
I wake up into a body I hate,
Feeling things I don't want to feel,
But not emotional things physical things,
Sometimes I don't know if I can feel emotions anymore.
But when I do they're so overhelming,
Dysphoria, unrequited love, sadness.
It's those three on a sequel,
I don't even have the nerves to kill myself.
I can see her underneath myself,
I can see her crawling in my skin,
I just want a take a knife and carve her out,
The secret girl within.
I detest myself with a writhing angst,
The kind of motion in a mass grave,
I hate the way I consumed this role,
The role of a war not of play.
I feed myself on lies you tell me,
Cause you don't want the truth,
I didn't fucking ask to be born,
Into a say I couldn't sooth.
Yet here I am alone again,
Here I am dependent again,
Here I am a man again,
A woman never to you?
This may be Nate Kinsella's "dad record," but the array of experimental sounds and soulful songs on offer evidence a new creative peak. Bandcamp New & Notable Jan 23, 2024