The Yarn I Am In

Half awake I see the future

Past slowly becoming the suture

To mend and make amends

Some guiding light, it depends

 

On my vascularized essence

So full of holes in all its presence

To speak and have carried shame

Upon my conception with onward blame

 

To be lost in an pit of confusion

And give my soul an utter contusion

By walking blind in a place of sight

Attempting speech as hard as I might

 

Tearing off the skin I’ve been wearing

Screaming in agony at a nameless pairing

Please, wash my organs clean with a cleaver

Destroy the ruthless, insurmountable fever

 

I lay naked in an eternity of yearning

For this bodily obsession, waiting, concerning

But it will never happen nor has ever been

I’m all bungled up in this yarn I am in