My mind is a constant battle
Of holding strong and wearing thin
My thoughts are a constant prattle
Of meaningless words and din.

My eyes are forever seeking out
The lost, the constant, in this place
My head forever turned away
From any contact with disgrace.

My hands are trembling with unease
They grip the slipping steering wheel
My ears are likely soon to seize
The sound of phantoms I can only feel.

My stomach is a pit of rotten snakes
Churning, as the venom takes its root,
My neck is up in arms with aches,
Claiming that pain is a point moot.

My bones are pillars of ancient rubble
Convincing the spine it’s made of sand
My nerves have left in search of trouble
Leaving sensation worthless and bland.

My intuition’s ready to blame
The first to enter my wall-less lair
My mouth is ready to take aim
With putrid snarls kept well prepared.

So keep your limbs dangling by your side
The shift to strike is quick and subtle
Cornered beasts in all of us hide
If you know what’s best, away you’ll scuttle.