Paranoia

by SpittleRattle

Trickery is what’s done this to me. Fast hands and imperceptible gestures I’ve missed as I’ve gurned and chuntered, spat and hissed, whilst staring into the middle distance and wondered. When I refocus everyone goes quiet, checking your phones. You think you’re so fucking smart. But I know.

You’ll all step back when I need you. I know how it goes. Everyone hides in the shadows, lurking at a distance, or dissolves through a wall with barely a fizz of resistance and a whisper about it being none of your business; not wanting your shoes muddy, or your hands bloody – yeah thanks for nothing, buddy.

Don’t give me that.

Take it back.

It don’t matter what I do, we’re talking about you. Slippery trickery and mendacity, accusations of hypocrisy backed up with lashings of misguided fake quackery. Yeah, just get back to me when you’ve got a clue, and we‘ll see what we can do.

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