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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