The stories that spin in my mind even I have come to believe.
I am the man behind the curtain of my own mind.
With one hand I weave and weave
Until you can no longer move beneath the web.
With the other, I tug, tug, tug
Until I completely yank out the rug and it all comes tumbling down.
I pull the marionette strings.
I rearrange the stars so you can no longer trust your compass.
All of this, so that I have something to do
With stories that spin in my head.
I am the man behind the curtain in my own mind.
These are the stories I have told myself.
This is either the way I was made or made to be.
Without the love of the first one who carried me here,
I am beholden to the man behind the curtain of my own mind.
I am powerless to the man behind the curtain of my own mind.
Gifted with charm and humor, I am ten steps ahead of where I want to take you.
Life through a skewed lens, astigmatism.
I would rather numb it, or distort it, or ignore it.
Indecision is my friend so that life can keep happening to me,
And none of this will be my fault.
I will slow it down and speed it up
Until my skewed view is the lens that you view the world through too.
When what you see and what you feel don’t match,
Then you will know how it feels to be me
And how dizzy it feels to be on this side of the curtain.
