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Caked In Dust

Nit picking is your 'special' gift.
And you snicker when you wish to needle.
Knowing it annoys a bit.

I'm bottled up.
You don't seem to know when it's enough.
I wish I could adhesive tape,
The flow of the rushing stuff...
I would love to hush up.

I'm bottled up.
And feeling like I'm sinking in a tub.
Corrupted by the notion this is love.
But the love I felt is caked in dust...
And pains me in the gut.

I'm bottled up.
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
Bottled up.
Like a pin stuck through a beetle.
Bottled up!
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
And this sickens me to heave...
Too weakened I am I can't leave.

I'm bottled up.
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
Bottled up.
Like a pin stuck through a beetle.
Bottled up!
And feeling pricked, nit picked and needled.
And this sickens me to heave...
Too weakened I am I can't leave.

I'm bottled up.
Too weakened I am I can't leave.
And I know this gives you pleasing relief!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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