Dealing. I'm always just dealing.
Strewn about, pulled too thin.
Thinking about what's about to rip.
""I think I know you from a past life.""
Being cautious, always watching my back.
I've been attracted to you like a fly to a mucus trap.
I've always been wrestling your internal pain.
Woke up from dreams where I undressed you from a priestly gown.
I played with dangerous toys and suffered a catastrophe.
It began with deafness and shut me down, now with dreadful shrieks.
The lights go out. The house shakes and implodes on itself.
Concave-mirrored walls, my own head has bred its very own version of distress.