Harshish in My Poetry Slams

Mounting pressure like a horny basset hound
Baying at a full, blood red moon
How many more times can I trick myself
By pretending to throw love and acceptance
While truly having nothing in hand?
How many more times can I suspend my disbelief
That people don’t equal shit?
It’s not a problem until you run out
And then it’s a fucking pandemic
A systematic shutdown and foldup
Transforming from human to robot
Because feeling this much is unfeeling
And I have to hit the pause button
Before I play myself all the way out