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claw the mind,

gash the mind, thrash it,

thaw it out,

crash it,

demoralise it

theorise til I lose it,

booze and then cruise it;

drug it, thug it

abuse it.

I’m through with it,


snooze with it

amuse with it

but end up

purple bruisin’ it

so, I fuse it to use it

but once I do this then I

lose it and

heave up, throw up,

erupt and corrupt myself

until I

get sly with it

cry with it,

wishing to god

I could fucking fly from it

and then

I wanna die with it

so I

claw the mind,

gash the mind, thrash it

into to shape

but it always ends

splatted in this circular


A much more substantial post to follow but really interested in going a bit further into a poem I wrote a while back and discussing what it is like to live with anxiety/an anxious mind. It's realistically a fairly shit poem but quite a good springboard for picking out that debilitating sense of circularity one finds oneself in when trying to escape anxious thoughts.

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