the fight

I try to fight the pull
Like a fishhook through the bellybutton
Of a mattress filled with quicksand
Soft surfaces are never honest
On the inside they’ve got tricks
Can ignite a fight in you
To run free
It’s neither dear old friend
Nor arrogant foe
Just pure sport
And the art of trying to be happy

Every word you say is poison
Sweet sticky poison dripping down my eardrums
On the surface it is fizzing
Acute eyes may say soaking
But I know it to be burning
Deeper down through me
Melting into a sandy mold
So even when I leave
A part of me's still there

So instead for every drop
I take another drink
Let it ignite a fight down my chest
Let it latch the gates on irrelevant thought
Let it bind me down with chains
Let the poison poison me

Now I don’t want to leave here
The poison is like perfect uppers
Pulling at my control
Burning through my body
Because I know that if I fight
The mattress always wins
And the poison always conquers
So why not change the strategy?
And anyway
I am always fighting
A scared little girl
Whose afraid to feel real love
But maybe she's grown up some