Each day, I lie asleep thinking what twisted game my mind is playing in its own mind.
a battle looking in the mirror is how I see it from time to time
The mind is sharp that cuts into the thoughts as if they were sweet butter
My mind cuts too fast and hard so when words come out
So, I fail and stutter.
My knife is sharp but my butter is melted
So hot, it disappears ]like vapor with no care where air lands
my head buried in the sand because I can’t think fast
I can’t do things slowly when I try to make things fast
Work, it’s never ago and I stay doing the same things
I know it is safe living in denial.
because I don’t want to hurt myself with my own knife