I saw a girl with palsy // Being spoon-fed by her father // While others looked on at them // I tried to eat my meal // I remind myself of how to chew // And the proper way to swallow // Not all of us were born in forms // We would have fucking chosen
// Who am I to think that I’m cut from a flesh like hers? // Yet who are you to claim what it means to dwell in my bones? // I’ve never had a reason to live // One not to die is what got me by // I grew tired of being defined // So I refined my absurdity // The rest the world dismissed me as // Merely ‘spastic or something’ // I’ve never had a reason to live // One not to die is what got me by // With utensils in my hands // A chatter and an echo channeled through me // This noise, a voice, segued itself // Into thoughts of rumination // You’ve been invalidated by those of the mind that no one can tell // What they neglect to actualize extends beyond their perception // Combatting your cognition and harnessing the hemiplegic nature of your being // While they pass judgement through their own lack of comprehension // No longer can these almost solipsistic suicidal notions // Slip off your tongue and slide under your breath, in consequence // Who are you to think you’re cut from a flesh like hers? // Who are they to claim what it means to dwell in your bones? //I sat there, selfishly absorbed into the recesses of my own indulgent thoughts // Caught in the throes of those contemplations // I examined the detriment imposed upon those of us who inhabit bodies // No more consciously occupied than that of your own // Even now, as I bare my soul onto the stage of that world which indoctrinated me with narratives of my own inadequacy // I still wonder whether it was my and insufficiency that caused me to confront the fatal consequence of a discriminatory existence // A question I raise despite an unaccountable culture possessing the capacity to compel a fucking twelve year old to try to kill himself // So as you watch my eyes glaze over in a lack of concern, my tongue still tethered to the lexicon of self-loathing // Ask yourself –have you ever felt that fucking broken? // It is for the sake of myself, that girl, and every other pre-teen suicide attemptee // That I’ll conjure up words and conquer something greater than the next drink // By pursuing a world in which I don’t have to be odds with ending my own // I’ll never need a reason to live // This one not to die is how I’ll get by // We’re all done with being defined // We can refine our absurdity // Let the rest the world dismissed you and // You can build yourself from nothing // You don’t need a reason to live // Find one not to die and you will thrive
credits
from The Ableist,
released January 22, 2021
Barry Cabrera – Guitar and Backing Vocals
Stephan Piven – Guitar and Backing Vocals
Jairus Paulus – Bass
Johnny Chacon – Drums
Paul Scanty – Lead Vocals
Vanessa Chacon – Vocals
supported by 4 fans who also own “Spastic or Something (Part I) [feat. Vanessa Chacon]”
This is one of those albums where I have a different favourite track every week, and it's been like that since the release that is now a year ago. What a massive album, starting out with fist pumping chants and gradually getting more electro but always with that punk grit attitude. Top 3 of 2023. Gijs van Soest