How many times do you have to
screw with my head
an electric socket that goes to a lightbulb until it goes dead
from so much exhaustion of always having to"stay on"
for a faulty parallel circuit that just gives in
to the slightest trigger that touches its brim
copper wires wrapped around power that is trying to glow
Why are you hiding me in a restrictive shallow sheath skin
when I'm trying to grow
all I want is to feel complete in a formation
that travels like traffic, paving a way
for my electrons to scurry like the information I have to retain
that shock me in the brain
that mold ideas and thoughts that
awfully hurt me—it's suffocating like
cellophane on skin underneath the rain.
I, my body, any body
thirsts for some affection
some sort of attention
something that can end
that anxiety of wanted
to feel complete
why must you rob me of my light?
if it is the only warmth I can provide
for my circuit, and my wired manipulated paradise.