Self-Checkout

Album cover art for "Self-Checkout" by ​s_connoisseur

​s_connoisseur - Non-Music

Self-Checkout

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I don't eat food without barcodes Wrapped in plastic, dated Two years from now Flavour sachets Cans – soup, salmon Saladas Cheese Flavourless, bland Well paired with the rest October tenth Summer's coming, so they say No less grey than before No less grey than September And September was grey No contrasting contrast It was then, Standing by the mirror, That I considered checking out And I wouldn't I wouldn't because It's bad I wouldn't because It's not to be done I wouldn't because – I wouldn't I wouldn't I wouldn't But it's still there It's still there lingering, a thought I can't erase An idea I can't expunge A cancer It's there It's there when I look in the mirror When I grab at my stomach It's there when I eat breakfast When I recall the mirror It's there when I'm in class When I recall the breakfast It's definitely there when I skip lunch It's there when I think too much Or when I think for just a moment Or when I think at all It's there when I see photos Or hear songs Or sit alone in my chair, writing poetry It's there when I read it back When I fail When I keep failing When it's all I can do It's there when I finish classes When I graduate Cloak, sash, paper in hand No mortarboard It's still there In the back of the eye The camera can't quite glimpse it It's there I know it is A trace of it, anyway I used to worry about my Dad doing it Before I worked out who I should be worried about I had to worry about something I had to worry about someone I had to worry about someone else Always someone else Never myself Checking out is the only thing scarier than staying Staying is easy Checking out is a statement I don't make statements Sure, it's bad, but it might be good And besides, if I check out Where will I go? It's lit from the inside, and I can't see out Not even when I press my face to the glass Crying Not even when I pull my hands around my eyes Like binoculars Even then, it's still just darkness Even then, I can't tell I walk upstairs I look at the bag on the bed Half packed, messily splayed open I knew I'd be back I knew I wasn't going anywhere

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Credits

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  • ​s_connoisseur