I draw elephants when I'm scared of mice
It's quite ironic, isn't it?
The most inconsequential triviality
Can send me spiraling into stressing
And worrying. And ruminating. And brooding.
So I draw elephants.
But the elephant is always smaller
Than the hole in my chest
His massiveness does nothing but sit
In my stomach and churn
Like a lump or two of sugar in tar
Coagulating like sick at the bottom.
And even when the mice find their way in
My brain pushes them with a broom
But straw bristles do nothing as poison does
I have no poison
So they just scurry behind other thoughts
And squeak when I forget