Correctness

The incongruity sparkles, dirty diamonds in a drain, With hackles rising, lips drawn back, in lemon peeling pain; A psychodrama stage of sleight springboards the stupid head, “I know,” she thinks, “I’m always right, I know that’s what he said.” The egotism sponges as a leech ingesting blood, The eyes are wide, the **** erect, the loins in moistened flood; A stimulating shafting sort of sycophantic surge. “His words are all about me now, he can’t control the urge.” The craziness develops like a Polaroid of junk, A dustbin lid, a bag of nails, a blue remembered funk; A schizophrenic symptom in a druggy wrecked-up mind, Ideas of reference screech, protesting honour is maligned. The fantasy grows darker like a stain that slowly spreads Upon the crotch she fumbles with, her fingers cold as lead; In face of letting loose of grip please don’t forget to smile, It’s only pretexts in the mind that bothered for a while.