Pieces of me course through your veins.
I fog your thoughts.
I cause your pains.
I block the drains.
I pool within you, stagnant.
You break my surface and then,
only then do you see how toxic you are,
we are.
We travel so far,
plagues in the jetstream,
bugs in the mainframe,
a glitch,
a worldwide *****,
an unscratchable itch.
We are caught,
like an insect,
trapped beneath a glass,
on a window,
nowhere to hide,
all for the best,
all for scrutiny,
to be examined,
under the microscope,
under the hammer,
under the glare,
and for a minute there...
...I lost myself.
Categories:
unscratchable, self,
Form: I do not know?