I have this indisposition you see,
a hunger.
One that is never satisfied.
I try so hard to hold my tongue,
But I watch as every word escapes me.
So clever and cunning a tool.
It is as if, just for a moment,
This entity takes form,
Its reach, weaving through
The deep tissues of my brain.
My body reacts.
Why? What is the point?
This incessant need to be vindicated.
It sickens me to think about it.
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 11:51 PM UTC
I have this indisposition you see,
a hunger.
One that is never satisfied.
I try so hard to hold my tongue,
But I watch as every word escapes me.
So clever and cunning a tool.
It is as if, just for a moment,
This entity takes form,
Its reach, weaving through
The deep tissues of my brain.
My body reacts.
Why? What is the point?
This incessant need to be vindicated.
It sickens me to think about it.
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