it, April Twenty-seventh

"it"

Sometimes

I really hate

Feeling "it" in my bones--

That inexplicable knowing

That comes before you're 

Supposed to know

I am sure that it is

Some of kind of

Psychological bla bla bla

A cognitive error

Brought on by a 

Selective memory

My brain attaching

Significance

Where there is none

But I don't care

I don't care 

What it actually is

It feels like knowing

I would much rather

This feeling in my bones

Not be there

I'd rather it be

Part of the white noise

Of a chaotic universe

Where fucked up shit

Happens and sometimes

A person we're thinking about

Is the one

Who falls

And, when we find out,

We think, "Oh... sad." without

Feeling in our bones

That we knew

Before we heard

April Twenty-seventh

On the road again
Songs that sound like other songs
Clog the radio