Angst

I feel sick-
 My organs bob about in the dark
 In a mustard mist
 In my stomach-vase
 Barely connected by the tubes
 But it's dark,
 In my eggshell
 If it were a baby, I'd name her angst
 And hold her tight in my chest
 And she'd grow from a small hard stone-
 Into my own-
 A problem of my own
 That would disease everything and everyone
 When I birthed her
 I birthed her red
 And when I met her-
 I cried the Styx for her-
 And she came out crimson-
 On the bathroom floor
 With her baby-weight she kept me down
 On the blue linoleum
 She tortured me still
 With the darkest despair
 For what felt like forever and ever
 And she pulled on my hair
 And whispered in my ear-
 'You fucking love-
 You love to fuck-
 To fuck it up
 Fucking listen to him sing this record.'
 She baby-grabbed the lump in my throat and pulled the cord-
 This is wild, she said-
 This is it-
 This is madness-
 Don't you love it?
 A lots going to change? Well hear it, better believe it!
 Let it sink in-
 As his titanic rises
 And the sun streams in whilst you're here hard on the floor
 - behind locked door-
 And I'm ringed around your neck.
 He thinks you float-
 But you DON'T!