Clean Slate


It begins as a tremor,

Stress flexing it's muscle.

The shaking will pass,

Yet the tension survives.

The tensions collect,

Geometrically the stress grows.

Then one day the muscle cramps,

Compresing the mind to a knot.

With therapy it loosens,

But never heals completely.

It is weak and unreliable.

Stress flexes it's mighty arm,

And the muscle snaps.

A staring collection of flesh,

Is all that remains.

A mass of cells,

Occasionally twitching,

Or violently raging, mindless.

They strap you in.

And store you away.

The sensation is null,

Thans to the drugs.

You sit and rot,

Wecome to insanity,

Welcome to relaxation,

Welcome to life,

Welcome to freedom.


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