Categories: Poetry

Manic Pixie by Alex Creece

I wore my favourite sweatervest
You know, that one with Snoopy on it
You told me I was so random
And I imagined my personality as the monotonous whirring 
        the coin crunching
        the ill-fated ka-ching!
Forever eluding a bleary-eyed gambler
Am I really an arbitrary sequence of generated outcomes?
Or am I just a kid who likes the cut of Snoopy’s
Jig

I screeched like all different species of dinosaur
Whywhywhy? Because I wanted to
But you told me I was so quirky
And looked at me as if I were different than anyone else
        as if I were sure of myself
        as if I were doing it for you
In a world where we are all just putting one littlefoot in front of
Another

I have to take 300mg a day, but not let anything scare me
Or else all of this becomes a far weaker tale
Where you tell me I am so special
And I let it contain me right there within those vapid words 
            within that dosage compartment   
            within choke-hazard capsules red, blue and special all over
Or think that sweatervests and screeching and symptoms make me anything more, or less
Than simply surviving the 
Day