her.radiohead

mixed / s g i n l a s

forward, MARCH.
we’re almost there—-
my stare,

focused on the goal,
i know my place : i know my role
in this army
this battle
this war of the heart

we start
to feel confident.

[then the ambush arrives]

and suddenly we aren’t marching foward
but sideways,
and for days,
back,
and we lack
all the momentum we previously had.

SHOOT! fire!
Kill—-
take none.
WAIT, we must imprison one
to let us know whats happening
OH FUCK,

just take out anything!

Now everything is a mixed signal,
and in trying to stay alive:
I have lost my direction,
I have lost my will to fight.