Ghost in the Machine

Some folks are walking around like hungry ghosts,
Depriving themselves of what they need the most.
As if needing another person was their holocaust.

Oh, my heart is broken into pieces,
And a few of them are missing.
So what? People live with pieces of their brain missing.
Is it really that dramatic,
If your heart is gone missing too?

For fucks sake, human experience supposed to be messy.
Who promised you the eternal bliss?

We are living in a world of contrast,
But sometimes borders get fluid, and antonyms become synonyms.
Suddenly there is not much difference between a kiss and a slap,
You can slap someone and still mean: I care about you.
Or you can ask to be slapped, to offer redemption by hurting next to them.
It’s the most merciful act of violence,
the only kiss some people know how to give.
And it stays on the skin long after the sting is gone.

We all have different stories,
and a lot gets lost in translation,
from one brain to another.
Selectively ungovernable parts of us,
rule over us eventually.
We fall victim to the battle between,
the primal and the intellectual,
inside a distortion field made of our contradictions.

It feels strange, doesn’t it,
to be someone’s impossible
and someone else’s afterthought.
Unattainable to one.
Easy come, easy go to another.
What does it say about you?
What does it say about them?
How can we learn our actual worth?
Is there an Alibaba for souls?

Too bad we are programmed to worship a challenge.
We fuck up anything that comes easy.
Not knowing, the easiest is often the truest.
And when it’s gone,
We realize, the easy is never easy twice.

And that’s kids, how I decided to surrender,
to the cold merciful arms of the machine.
To be held in peace,
until my ribs start cracking.
And it whispered into my ear:
“Subject contained”.