Spun

My head is spun and I’m coming undone, strand by tiny strand. My brain is mad cow, there is sweat on by brow and I’m drifting. Fuck, I want to grab hold, reel myself back into being but how and where and who? I’m in danger of never coming back, of staying off track of never being anything to anyone. I need clarity, to focus on the calamity that my life has become. Can you help me back? Can you forget the past and tow me into the future? I’ll pay you in riddles or dig ditches in your dreams. Just, please, please don’t forget me.