intrusive thoughts

My head creaks like the stairs of a haunted mansion.

It’s always my fault when I crumble,

It’s my fault if I call out the pretention.

The mind is a revolving door, it turns in twisted circles.

My nausea is building quickly

As the world illuminates like a circus.

And the tension in my neck is crawling up the spine.

Why do I suffer for their naive mistakes

If I can suffer for mine?

I wait patiently but I bet they won’t tell me what’s wrong.

The pain spreads in seven dimensions,

But they beg me to hold on.

My skin turns ghostly, and my eyes roll back into my skull.

One last heartbeat, one more breath,

And all goes dull.

-JW

Seven / Intruder

I must have the seven arcs in a story,

Must have a seven step program to glory.

There are seven pages and seven scripts,

Seven ways to pull the same old trick.

Seventeen stooges with velvet guns,

Burning barrels of Seagrams 7 for fun.

The seventh son was the last to survive –

His mother was twenty seven

When she fell on a knife.

Seven hundred soldiers dying in heat.

Vultures watching hungered by the defeat.

Crashing into a wall with a grey 7-seater.

A seven part plan to kill and elect

The new world leader.

-JW