Tuesday, 3 May 2016

Sad

Deep
Empty

Quivering,
Grey
Tingling fingertips,
Aching dismay.
A buzz,
A pulse,
Up and down
My spine,
Stiff neck
Crick, crack
Tunnel vision,
So, black,
Nothing seems real.
Quiet,
Still,
Slow,
Dark,
Firm mouth,
Fixed jaw,
Sour taste,
Loss of grace.
Down,
Heavy
Weight,
Holding
me back
From making an
escape.


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