devastation
You think it's getting better, but then people nearly die.
One of those people... You wonder why you don't hate the one for almost killing the other. You wonder why you only pity them. You wonder why you aren't even angry at that person.
And you think that after all of that, after the sirens and the IVs, things will get better this time, and you're wrong.
You've never wanted a magic wand so badly, not even when you had a gun in your mouth. You can tolerate your own suffering, but not his. You don't even like him. You love him, and you try to like him, and you *need* that magic wand to make all of his problems go away. You're going to buy him ice cream. Maybe he'll appreciate it, but it won't fix anything. You still won't like him, he still won't like you, you'll still love each other, and no one will have that magic wand.
You try to write about it, but you only hear David's words, his melodies. He had a song for everything.
So you write a reprise of something from 15 or more years ago and you don't know what to call it, only an exodus is involved and there is imagery of Eden that you didn't intend.
You're going on a trip next week. Good. Hopefully no one will be hurt by then. Hopefully no one will be hurt while you're gone.
I just want The Words to fix it.
One of those people... You wonder why you don't hate the one for almost killing the other. You wonder why you only pity them. You wonder why you aren't even angry at that person.
And you think that after all of that, after the sirens and the IVs, things will get better this time, and you're wrong.
You've never wanted a magic wand so badly, not even when you had a gun in your mouth. You can tolerate your own suffering, but not his. You don't even like him. You love him, and you try to like him, and you *need* that magic wand to make all of his problems go away. You're going to buy him ice cream. Maybe he'll appreciate it, but it won't fix anything. You still won't like him, he still won't like you, you'll still love each other, and no one will have that magic wand.
You try to write about it, but you only hear David's words, his melodies. He had a song for everything.
So you write a reprise of something from 15 or more years ago and you don't know what to call it, only an exodus is involved and there is imagery of Eden that you didn't intend.
You're going on a trip next week. Good. Hopefully no one will be hurt by then. Hopefully no one will be hurt while you're gone.
I just want The Words to fix it.