Culture

Need to sew a new song 

Paranoia

There are eyes everywhere

There are bad whispers in the ears

There are palpitations at every turn

Need to rest the brain

Mute the buttons

Sew a new song

The eyes dart to and from

No rest till there’s no more

The bloodied fingers are too salty

Need a break

But the breakroom is full of littered thoughts

Down the poison

The drain is full

The thoughts are still there

Can’t run away

The cats are their emissaries

The lips chapped from the drought

Too much is fraught

Pass the pill

Pray for tomorrow

No escape

The route is continuous

The bumps purposeful

The falls dreadful

The locks bite

The key is key

But who will turn it?

Paranoia

 

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