Good Enough from Mildepond by A.p. Harbor

I get drunk in strangers’ homes
when I’m feeling all alone.
On the right kind of night, I am christened a dignified debutante.
I drown my hunger in
the tears of other men,
and I fall, and I bruise, and the bruises don’t leave;
they leave me enthralled.

These days,
I get off and I turn in.
My heart don't work like it did back then.

Too many times with a bunk mate roach,
I drank so much that the neighbors woke
with calls from doctors who junk mail me their prescription notes.
If they knew that you loved me they would
cut off my happy pills and root for us
and let me drink down my illusions of you like whiskey.

The freedom fits me like a glove,
certified suicide or survival thereof.
I jump from under the gun to under the knife in a stove top pirouette.
Pills on plates for the boozie bourgeois.
It's a goddamn coups d'etat,
and I’ve drowned in the memories of you like a mangled swan.
Maybe I would've let in God
if perfection didn't taste so strong.

I was happy when I had it rough.
I’m not at my best, but it’s good enough.

• Alternative
• antifolk
• folk pop
• folktronica
• indie pop
• indie rock
• Morehead