as the keys
on my laptop
the smudge
on my glasses
everything passes

It sticks
as a chocolate bar
on a kid’s fingers
as old mascara
pray to Tara

It sticks
as a price tag
on the picture frame
the man stuttering
calling my name
all they do
is fan the flame

It sticks
as a *** of gum
under the desk
the things he’s done –
this world’s a mess

It sticks
as a crusty scab
covering the wound
in in time
it’ll heal soon