I don't know
what it is.
Maybe I'm holding
onto my
childhood self.
Maybe Freud
would shake
his finger at
my subconscious.
Maybe it's just
a form of
destruction.
Or even just
a textile habit.
Maybe it brings
back great memories
or I just enjoy
the rebellion.
An obvious
compulsion and
lack of awareness.
Maybe it's
just a tick I have.
Do I have a disorder?
A fixation?
An addiction?
Maybe I just
have no respect.
Maybe I get bored.
Or I black out.
Maybe I love
a good faux pas.
But I do know that
I just can't help
but stick my
gum
under the table.
Adding your comment: