The Thing That Doesn’t Stick to Other Things

The thing that doesn’t stick to other things
but should
is shaped like the filaments of my soul.

Why oh why,
thing that doesn’t stick to other things,
do you torment me?

Where is your rationality,
your culpability,
your stickiness?

Sticking to things is your purpose,
but you have lost your purpose.
I have lost my purpose.

I have lost
the means to stick you to other things
and probably my mind.

I am the thing that doesn’t stick to other things,
and I need a whole other poem
to deal with the implications of the metaphor.

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