name this game

you think
i thought
she says
he says
we said

a little pointing game
didn't want this ill begotten fame
stuck in the middle
just name the dame
forget that she's a
living walkng talking
mannequin


screams
from the deepest darkest cells if my seared heart
hair standing on end

cold
like never before in all my waking living memory
shivers from a broken soul

caught
like a cut off forgotten kite in a tree
tattered and fluttering in vain

tempted
by the groggy throbing brain pain
to dance dance dance to the pumping club music's vein

no abracadabra
can make this vanish again

for history wrote itself
every step of the way


seven strings
the pull so tight
with a twitch of the stick
i move left and right

too many wants
too many grunts


too many too many to think stright for once






dont want to see this ever again


dont want to think anything ever again

will there be a hand
a rope
that will save me from
this slippery spiral down
to pain