It’s like
an unsticky web
how things
fall into my
head
Nothing ever
really gets
filtered out
Thoughts are
thrown at me
in a shout
Yeah, it is
pretty clear
something’s going
on here
Each inky
black thought
casting
immeasurable doubt
It even surprises
me
with the words
that I spout
Who wrote
those things?
Evil awful
creepings
Friends ask
Where on Earth
did you find
this out?
Why would
you write such
horrid things?
It gives pause
for thought
and doubt
© Kait King, 2016





