My favorite Christmas present of all time
Was a set of jewelers' screwdrivers
All the little philips, flat and hexes
For tearing down machines
My father got it for me when I was sixteen
And I still have it today.
I remember one day at school
I was sitting in the bathroom
Staring at the fixtures
Because you have to stare at something
And I noticed the screws
Could only be turned one way.
They were designed so they could be tightened
But never unscrewed
And, I reasoned, this was because they didn't want
Any kids to tear apart the bathroom stalls
Which means bathroom stalls
Can be torn apart.
I started looking around the school
And everywhere I saw un-safetied screws
Holding together pieces of things
I took for granted as "solid"
The desks, the walls, the bookshelves
They could all be torn apart.
Giddy with my realization
I wanted to tear down the world
I mentally dismantled the schoolbus,
The movie theater, the park benches
I unmade an alarm clock
And broke my father's chisel.
One time I took apart a rotary phone
The faceplate, the dial, everything
I broke all the way down
To a little box of goo
That I still don't know the purpose of
It would never be a phone again.
And sometimes I think this attitude
Explains what happened to my head
Because I learned what brains are made of
And identities
I ate lots of ideas that were bad for me
And tore my shit to pieces.
I think I telephoned my brain.
:mittens: That's so close to home I'm wondering now if you're my Tyler Durden. Can someone check the IP's ITT to see if they're the same :tinfoilhat:
That was great, QG.
Quote from: P3nT4gR4m on April 01, 2016, 02:25:59 PM
:mittens: That's so close to home I'm wondering now if you're my Tyler Durden. Can someone check the IP's ITT to see if they're the same :tinfoilhat:
Strangely enough, not the first time I've been accused of being someone's Tyler Durden.