Spiralling

Thoughts.

The kind that

you fall into

step by step.

The kind that get worse as

You keep hearing

The sentient voices in your mind like the sound of

Chewing people love to hate on, with open mouths and bits

Of food stuck in their teeth and yogurt splattered

On the wrong side of their toothy grin.

Thoughts.

The kind that give rockets fuel to sprint into the sky and into space, yet it takes a long while to get back
to earth. If an astronaut in one of those were to walk out and take of his helmet he’d explode to death in an instant.

Thoughts .

Like the horrible stench of methane gas

And the loud motorbike sound that comes from breaking the wind

That you can’t hold into your behind

During an assembly with all the other kids around you turning so their gaze is on you.

Thoughts.

Like that annoying little bro who keeps coming into your room

Demanding to use your iPad

Threatening to tell mom and dad you called him stupid.

THOUGHTS.

THE UNWANTED GUESTS IN YOUR BEIGE HOME
FILLED WITH MANY

WIRES THAT GET TRANSMISSION TWENTY FOUR
HOURS A DAY.

THOUGHTS.

THAT ARE A TICKING TIME BOMB TOWARDS SELF-DESTRUCTION.