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Mishka Shubaly
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Last of My Kind
It's not that the heart has stopped beating
It's just moved to marking time
It's not that the lungs have stopped breathing
They still deflate and rise
Tear ducts micturate and dry
Nerve endings wither, calcify
It's not that the body has stopped working
Like it ever had the choice to resign
It's not that the cells have stopped growing
They've grown monstrous, they divide and divide
and divide and divide and divide
Your new body's brighter and boring
How do you intend to excise all these vestigial organs?
I cannot change
I will not evolve
I am an artifact, I'm the last of my kind
You will encounter me in the pages of a textbook
Too scared to move ahead,
so stubborn I was left behind.
My tiny brain, buried in my thick skull,
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I'm the last of my kind
I'm your payphone, your calling card, a tattered atlas
A relic, a curio, a useless artifact
Mixtapes and photo albums,
a late night long-distance phone call
This used to mean something but just what,
We can't recall now.
Your world's moving forward, yeah, it's thriving
Where do you intend to bury this survivor?
I cannot change
I will not evolve
I am an artifact, I'm the last of my kind
You will encounter me in the pages of a textbook
Too scared to move ahead,
so stubborn I was left behind.
My tiny brain, buried in my thick skull,
I'm the last of my kind
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