Bobby in my air-filled veins

I sometimes feel like I am in the right place, in every way. These moments are rare, though. Sometimes it is all wrong. But sometimes, every once in a while, I am nowhere. I am on my own, exactly nowhere, floating by.
Sometimes I am the simple human with lots of water and a few brain cells here and there. Sometimes I am filled with fire, sometimes I am just full of hot air. I am a led zeppelin, without the cool factor.
There is something about being interchangeable that makes it so easy for me to remove myself from everything. The whole world seems so unattached, it almost pushes me to the unknown. There are days in which I hate the feeling of not belonging, some others in which I myself look for that needed alienation. But other days, this and other situations are nothingness in my soul. I am there and then I am not. And I feel fine.
This post probably makes no sense, but I felt like writing about this lack of defined space, defined time, defined figure to look at in a mirror and recognizing what you see. It is one funky feeling, but it’s alright, ma. I am only bleeding.

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