Lost control
She first caught my eye
When she jumped and skipped around
But I later learnt
She needs to distract herself from herself
Her inner tempest
But now it’s this tempest
It’s her as the shipwreck
That I want to fight for
Now her distractions
Are my distractions
From her
I think of the Joy Division song, She’s lost control
How epileptic seizures can exist in our world of order and harmony
Are they cracks in the system?
Out of place?
Exceptions?
Things to be put in the margins?
Like sentences that cause us to stutter
Like best intentions that make us suffer
Life can be cruel
Life can just be
None of us are exempt
From the wild tempest
God’s anointed tempest
Chaos exploded, erupted and everywhere
The storm ravages as we lay naked on a wooden row boat
But the storm is best kept inside us
We blow high winds
That turn into typhoons
We tremor uncontrollably
Triggering earthquakes
That send tsunamis
We can’t accept this
We only want to expand and exaggerate momentary modderation
As if the world is naturally mild-mannered
As if it shimmers in soft sunshine at day
And glimmers in a gentle glow at night
And we are such experts at make-believing
That we are fair creatures
That inside us is only a sleepy moss mattress
If only we cleared away the messy undergrowth
And as we can never penetrate this supposed
Heavenly bed
We try to pretend instead
That the thorny, poisonous bushes and shrubs
Don’t exist
But precisely only by acknowledging their darkness and wickedness
It is a momentary distraction
Born from a defensive convulsion
I don’t like it
I want us to recognise that we are the storm, the tempest
And simultaneously the shipwreck
In order for us to break the make-believe fantasy of a world of order
That gives birth to gentle creatures
Chaos is coming
Without regard of our will, chaos is coming
When she jumped and skipped around
But I later learnt
She needs to distract herself from herself
Her inner tempest
But now it’s this tempest
It’s her as the shipwreck
That I want to fight for
Now her distractions
Are my distractions
From her
I think of the Joy Division song, She’s lost control
How epileptic seizures can exist in our world of order and harmony
Are they cracks in the system?
Out of place?
Exceptions?
Things to be put in the margins?
Like sentences that cause us to stutter
Like best intentions that make us suffer
Life can be cruel
Life can just be
None of us are exempt
From the wild tempest
God’s anointed tempest
Chaos exploded, erupted and everywhere
The storm ravages as we lay naked on a wooden row boat
But the storm is best kept inside us
We blow high winds
That turn into typhoons
We tremor uncontrollably
Triggering earthquakes
That send tsunamis
We can’t accept this
We only want to expand and exaggerate momentary modderation
As if the world is naturally mild-mannered
As if it shimmers in soft sunshine at day
And glimmers in a gentle glow at night
And we are such experts at make-believing
That we are fair creatures
That inside us is only a sleepy moss mattress
If only we cleared away the messy undergrowth
And as we can never penetrate this supposed
Heavenly bed
We try to pretend instead
That the thorny, poisonous bushes and shrubs
Don’t exist
But precisely only by acknowledging their darkness and wickedness
It is a momentary distraction
Born from a defensive convulsion
I don’t like it
I want us to recognise that we are the storm, the tempest
And simultaneously the shipwreck
In order for us to break the make-believe fantasy of a world of order
That gives birth to gentle creatures
Chaos is coming
Without regard of our will, chaos is coming
