Beliefs holding on for grim death,
opinions getting off on themselves,
ideas strangling me in lines of complexity.
Be gone. Be gone.
Rusty shackles please unlock,
eyes red and prickly, soften, look,
ears, suspicious, open, listen,
mouth too pursed, smile, kiss.
Come back to me,
my beloved lost little one.
Dissolve into my arms,
and be free of all that past.