You have a slight lisp 

And your front teeth tilt inward

You change your temperament with the flow of the wind 

You love seeing me

But hate when I won’t go 

Your mind is tightly wound

And its anxiousness bleeds through the cuticles of your thumbs

When you feel 

It hurts

So you built up a dam

Well I’m the little Dutch boy

And I’m stopping the flow

Of energy 

From one reservoir of thought 

To the next

I will go


Into the 


But I will not avert myself 

From thoughts of you