Monday, November 16, 2009

Paranoia

I hear voices

Telling me what to do

Hissing and lurking

Behind my punctured ears

The wind blows through

My six holes

Reminding me what I should do

And encouraging me to take the easy road

I try and try to rid of them

I hold my ears shut

The voices climb into my brain

Taking over my body

Making me stumble over the days

Carelessly high

And stupefied in my own mind. 

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