Loose-lipped in a tight spot.
Juggling words through the duress.
An embarrassment comparable to that of pissing yourself during the 4th grade talent show.
You fit like a glove in that coffin you were crafting.
Never thought your own dead weight would put you in it.
I bet you’d smack yourself if there was enough space in there.
But you’re boxed in.
A four-sided cell for your shortsighted brain.
Self-induced solitary confinement.
And to think, you already thought you were alone.
gutterphenomenon 