between and within my inner workings.
A weak synaptic junction,
It winds and twists like
a storybook snake from my nightmares.
It weaves itself throughout, collecting pieces along its way and using them as little grey lackeys to do its bidding.
Designing a thorny grey mosaic on its flexuous body,
It admires its loveliness
while possessing my nature.
I am infested.
My thoughts, they are fragmented.
My words, they are muddled
into a puddle
From time to time, a piece of the wall cracks away and
I have control.
I am open,
But this sense of marvelous ease, it is fleeting
and I am back.
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