It doesn’t stop because you want it too.
This Ferris wheel moves, it is always moving.
Mind at three a.m.
Folding anxieties back on to itself.
Forcing your umbrella’s collapse.
Going on inside
You know the stuff you buried?
Flashing like a neon sign 3
Don’t even utter the words.
It is a backbiting temptress
An emissary of craving and desire
The great seductress, whose lie is as beguiling, as
Your very first line.
The high leaves you little enjoyment once the deed is done.
Left in a puddle of sticky peanut butter and maple syrup
Covered in flies
Pummeling every ounce of self-control
Feeding the demon over and over
Then lying to yourself
And everyone else
Tear streaked anger washes over and out
Spilling off your umbrella leaving you dry
And you pick yourself up and reexamine
Who is in control here?