On Intrusive Thoughts

I’m thinking St. Jude has got a hold on me

My head my hands my head

Shaking so violently

Hand me a bottle, babe

I can’t breathe

I need to breathe

I need to breathe

Help me breathe

St. Jude is laughing something like ecstacy

Something inside of me

She’s twisting me up,

Shaking me down

The impulses-dear,

They’re getting too loud and I don’t

Know whose mind they’re coming from

Not mine

Not mine

Not mine

I know I swore that I’d be fine but

What if I can’t make them stop?

Will you catch me if I leap

But maybe, maybe I could just

Fall into something sweet

Sweet like poison, sweet divine

If I could just lie down in a bliss of

Apathetic dreams and hungry fever

If I could just breathe

I’m thinking St. Jude’s got a hold on me

Patron saint of the lost causes and

I just might be one

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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