"HERMANO" || ATARDECIDA

EMBRACE THE ANTIFUTURE! || BEWARE THE VORTEX! || ABANDON THE EGO! || CARRY A DREAMCAST VMU! || DELETE YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA! || MOVE WITH THE FLUID! || RETURN TO WATER! || DISCIPLINE THE SOUL! || QUESTION THE IMMATERIAL! || 1999 FOREVER! ||

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HERMANO
(02/10/2023)


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In case you were concerned about a pitiless one-last-glance over the shoulder,
Or a long-held resentment, grudge, a bitter taste in my mouth and dismissal
Of whatever it was you told me back when I recognized you,
The finger I hacked off has stopped bleeding, scar tissue grew, of course it would,
But I have nine fingers now, as well as I've adapted to this new mode of movement.

I never lied about the disturbances I felt within myself, how my leaves changed color
At a moment's notice, to better suit whatever environment I found myself in.
It wasn't something I recall ever talking about in any great detail,
But you were well-acquainted with a color of mine that few others had seen-
Because it wasn't something I felt secure showing, it was a garish blood-red.

My leaves turned that same crimson today when an icy breeze chilled me to the bone,
Making me feel like a stranger among the familiar, making me wonder where I was,
I pulled away and hid myself, and nobody saw it, because nobody else was right for it,
This color isn't for them, it's not a blood-red I allow into the sights of anyone but blood,
And it's fair enough to call it blood when it looks just like mine.

And who am I to judge someone for their need for privacy or pride?
I know you never liked it when someone could read into it too well, or too much,
But I assure you, and I can't count on whether you're listening or not,
That I was never here to take anything more than what you would willingly offer me,
And I cannot prove it to you with anything other than now counting on nine fingers and a stump.

If it means anything to you, take solace in knowing that I no longer know anything,
And I don't pretend to know either, if it was your intent to throw me off, you succeeded,
Regretfully, I must admit I still wonder about it, and I can't help but wonder sometimes,
Because, as it happens, hacking off a finger does tend to decidedly leave one
Without sensations and movements that were once a part of their life.

Now I know it means nothing, there's nothing to count on, I have no expectations,
And I don't allow my personal feelings to take priority over the practical course of action,
Maybe nothing could be done, maybe it simply is what it is, a string isn't broken if deliberately cut,
To assume, wonder, or ignore are equal affronts, maybe one can't or shouldn't try to win,
But I'm now back where I used to be, blood-red in the dark, and nobody feels familiar.

And it hurts, I don't like feeling that way,
And maybe I don't want you to feel this way either (if you do),
But maybe I'm colorblind, maybe I can only count to nine,
And your life isn't mine, I won't tell you to stay,
But there was blood covering my hand today.