All twisted up
Is that how you want me to be?
Tangled in the net
of my own contradictions
Is that how i am supposed to end up
at the hands of you?

Well whether or not
you intended it to,
you make me confused and cry
sinking into the slumpy cushions
of my secluded room.
So I hope that makes you happy.
I hope it eases your mind.

To see me shut up and downcast,
dodging gazes already averted
And questioning
- oh the questioning!
Every night.
Am I happy?
Yes
Should I do this?
Yes
Are you sure?
No
Should I quit?
No
So what should I do?

...

The resounding question no one dares answer
(because they know that's what they lack)
What do I do then?
Now that my burning lovebug
is scorching and scalding my face with sweet fire
and his wings buzz incessantly in my hair
No way out
except to swat
and yet.
I never want
(can't bring myself)
to tell him that word:
stop

So if no stop
and shady friends
say no go
Then what?

Thanks for the support, o friends
Thanks for your contribution
Because I guess that means
- that insinuates -
I am to continue this,
Writhing on the grime-swept floor,
sticky, bloody, hands not free
splitting my head
on the cobblestone wall
while my friends stand
by
And laugh,
while a love- a fly
hums softly in my ear

What should I do?
I don't know
lay there then
All Twisted Up