I hate paranoia

July 15, 2013

Sometimes I feel them falling from my throat down to my belly
where they melt into my fat.

You can see the trolls
lifting my legs with strings.
You can hear them
laughing as they open my mouth
spewing idiocy in every direction.
You can feel the stale air
breathing deep.

I like philosophy because it
comforts me.
I like words because they lie
so well.
I like drug addicts because they dance
with their eyes closed
and laugh.

I’ve tried to call
Troll Control
but the line is always busy.
The answering machine is full.
Please try again later,
a machine voice tells me.

An itch in my gut and
strange seeping of the pores makes
everyone watch with raised eyebrows
as the trolls echo through my body
bouncing off my ribcage.

Machine Voice sounds magnificent.
In my head she is a ballerina
free of trolls
because she works at Troll Control.
What a lucky girl,
and so pretty.

Sometimes the trolls trick me
into thinking I said something
out loud
when they only whispered it
in my ear and then I stand there
not having said a word.
Great confusion is created by my
glaring troll soul.

Who else has trolls and why can’t I see them?
The smell is pungent on my every fiber
and yet
I cannot detect it on someone else.

I am starting to think I am the only one
with a troll soul.

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