tilt-a-whirl

i get
lost in my
agonies
fireflies
sounding off
in explosions
just under
my papery flesh
so easily
torn by
these foreign
intruders
lumps squirming
larva growing
in the fibers
of aching
muscles as
i decipher
the lights
dully gleaming
a hidden
missive from
the universe
or god
mocking me
either or
i sit with
a pocket knife
little incisions
to let them
go free
stop their
infernal torment
incessantly
itching
trying not
to claw at
my face
and neck

part of me
knows they aren’t
really there
but emotional
aching has
zero relief
just a
tilt-a-whirl
rotating
on an endless
loop on the
uneven steel
nauseous
from a steady
diet of
coffee and
insomnia as
the fireworks
light the ride’s
ceiling with
shadow theatre
of failures
the duct tape
covered seat
sticky with
blood as
i spinspinspin
into forever
in silent
defeat
fighting the
harness keeping
me trapped
alone with
my thoughts

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