Testo Blurring Time

Friday night
Drinking boxed wine
Alone in my apartment blurring time
The texture of air
Is stale as I stare
In distress at this body of mine

Catastrophic soft symphony Rigid dichotomy
Complex identity
It’s not as simple as either or
I’m both and I’m more
Most of all I’m unsure

I think I’ve become
The sort of someone
Who scared me stiff when I was young
Soft as a feather
Tough like worn leather
Who am I under the Saturday sun

Maleficent social construct
If it is all made up Why do I give a fuck
I don’t want to define myself by
Who I’m not and I’m trying
This is my battlе cry

Friday night
Drinking boxed wine
Alone in my apartmеnt blurring time