What exactly are we afraid of?
feeling liberated or being berated?
satiating my thirst for love seems easy
but the thought makes me queasy

the reasons complex
my head's a clouded mess
rotting piles of plastic phrases festering while resting in crowded corners
not neglected nor respected
because it's infected, contagious and spreading
setting the tone for the rest of the night
it's like an internal fight

but there's no winner
i'm just a beginner, or better a sinner
maybe some food or dinner will put to rest
this litmus paper truth test...
my head is like a jail
and i'm stuck in a head arrest.