Icky Thump
Published in
1 min readMar 7, 2016
A poem
Melancholic
He sits, stirs his
Gin and tonic, endures
Sonic sadness, before his
Vitriolic,
Hyperbolic
Sin and more
Demonic madness occurs.
A workaholic,
Alcoholic,
Despotic
Psychotic with
No diagnosis;
Only knows his
Automatic, episodic
Fear grows chaotic,
Proposes panic, dear,
And your manic tears
Fall like rain in this
Bitter atmosphere.
And you drown,
Can’t swim free,
Imprisoned in
Satanic misery.
Still
Laconic, he jumps,
And keeps you grounded
With an icky thump.