Sticky, Stuck

My mind is sticky, stuck,

That’s the tricksy part of luck;

To have these thoughts, these needs,

and to never set them free…

They do not know me yet

– closet hyperbolic wreck –

(See, they still think I’m sane

and I still play their games),

But my mind is sticky, stuck,

My lips are melted shut

while my heart growls, stomach screams,

and an earthquake rips my seams.

Black Dog’s pulling on his lead;

A hungry, rabid fiend,

Must let the right ones in

to this naked sideshow of my sin,

But my mind is sticky, stuck,

Disconnected, out of touch,

And they will see the cracks set in,

Watch through translucent skin,

See my insides turn to ash,

Watch me stutter, jerk, and thrash,

But they’ll never do enough

to get my sticky mind unstuck.

 

 

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