The real deal is this friggin urge to
deal with your thoughts
that I am unable to deal with.

My neck itches like a cranky thron
as if thousands of worms swopped in.
Blemishing my skin, ruining my facade.

As I was sober for the sake of reality
now stress eating took over my brain
crawling in the suit of midnight brownies.

Is this some sort of sexual tension or
an intense craving for emotional cuddle?
Maybe something that stand between...