Oh, you'd think
It would be empty by now
But I open the box again
I say what I want
And hear "No."
I sit in want
Old wants
Buried wants
Pressure rising
I know by now
What is happening
I let it rise in me
I do not fight it
I clean the bathroom
Scrub tile and grout
Wants claw inside me
Burst like striking oil
A geyser from within
Black sticky want
Screaming up through the air
Falling everywhere
Filthy, flooding
It will take a while to clean up
this dark matter,
pollutant to poison
or fuel to sustain?