It’s the closing of the door behind the song that sings about marrying someone’s genitals.
It’s the cool side of the pillow you have – the side you are sleeping on because everything in your room is cold.
Even your hands.
It’s the thought of you warming your own hands on your own.
It’s the panic like the walls are closing in your own panic room and you drown yourself in the tears of irony.
And you don’t know where to go.
To stay or to leave,because either way the walls are still closing in.
It’s the confusing,selfish and irrational decision you have chosen disguised as level headed and responsible.
Like a man in a toga with a fruit bowl hat.
Like when Neo takes the red pill.
I took the red pill too.
And there’s no other pill I would take
not even a Duloxetine.
And finally the walls stopped closing in.
I feel small,but at least I am small in a small space.