This is an anthem for the weirdos
like me — the wild and free
unabashedly loving what they see
in the strange terrain
of their crowded, fantastic brain.
Let the world squawk their warnings
kill your heroes
keep your darlings
Make it a dance, avoiding their arrows
and propaganda’s stomping…
The clouds have parted.
Blinding at first, the glow is starting
to soak into these rigid bones
and draw me to the buzz of microphones.
I have a voice — I swear
it’s rising from the depths
of my own personal hell, beware:
I’m an introvert who’s been hurt, and
I have no idea what it’s gonna share.
A rich mine, bejeweled with a lifetime
of untapped, untainted, dark inner-world; hilarious
and about to be unfurled; my tongue
the red carpet (so to speak).
It will stumble and may sound meek
for now — be patient.
Soon…this weirdo will howl.
follow wormwood for periodic weird.
Adulting is nothing more than becoming our own parents.
I don’t mean turning into your parents, I mean taking over the job now that they’re off the hook.
Because when we pick off all the crusted BS we’ve caked around our sensitive cores, we discover the hard truth: It’s not…
You are me.
The confidence and fears,
the charm and hidden tears.
Your paint is bright,
your smile fun,
you bring the best
Because you are me.
You are me.
don’t ask for much —
A warm, safe…