Nothing Quite Fits.

Nothing quite fits.

There’s a murder at the fun-fair,

A raindrop on a sunny day,

A single rose in the monster’s lair,

And a cat in the middle of the bay,

Because today nothing quite-

Fits

I took a train through a tunnel too narrow

For the music the wheels wanted to play

Then I read some books that broke my brow,

And watched my dreams crumble like clay,

But through it all my veins thrummed,

Its-

Like I’m surprised by my face in the mirror,

Eyes reflected in glass reflected in eyes going

On and on until they start to tremor,

So I move and smile because I’m doing

Okay. Right? I mean-

I must be, I have shit to do, and people asking

Things of me. Are you coming to campus?

When this is over how are you celebrating?

I have never wanted to step in front of a bus,

But I have met people who-

Wanted to. But I think wanting that is like

Wanting more, at least for me, because more

Might just make things fit, like a bike

Who’s wheel finally clicks, or the hallway door

When I twist it just right, ah if only-

If only, if only, if only, if ONLY.

I don’t know anymore, things just don’t fit.

I do things I don’t like because I get lonely,

I like to pretend my sins are exciting but really

They're shit.

I don’t want to step in front of a bus, I want

To ride a comet and dance in Saturn’s rings,

There I could be the topic of ballads and chants,

Have my name writ large like heroes and kings

And on my laurels I would rest-

Uneasy, Like a cat in a bay or a song,

Out of tune, I don’t quite fit together.

I hope I can find a way before the chance is gone,

But how do you un-murder a fair, suck a raindrop back into the sky,

Kill a rose or rescue a cat when most of you just wants to lie

Lie down and sleep and think and sleep and sleep?

Perhaps I’m looking for an answer, a Eureka in this verse

Like a prisoner crawling from Plato’s cave

Or a mystic pondering the universe,

But I know by now that knowledge is weak and certainty a curse,

Feeling and desire keep the beasts at bay at the closing of each day.

So I light my words and hold them high

Even as they run over and the rhymes start to die,

Nothing quite fits today or any day, but I will burn

That candle brightly for the glory of the flame.

Nothing quite fits today, but thankfully

I’ve realised all stories start and end this way.