My Unstable Poetry

Grip

Grip my hips like you would on a ledge

Grip like you are holding onto a metaphorical existence

Grip, but babe no finger prints

Grip my neck like I did when I was young

Grip my head like I'm in pain and your my only reality

Grip my life, and hold on

for I am a flying kite

swerving each and every direction

So grip me

Grip me, like a pencil you lost

Grip me, like the last clothing of fabric you'll ever have

Grip me, like that gun you held to your head

And you said, "Dear Oh Holy Lord grip my mind and don't let the loose strands show."