The flesh that makes up my face is smooth
like Russian dolls that stack inside themselves
The hair on my head standing straight
like a needle that defies gravity
My heart pounds through my body
like a swinging mace
The tension in my mouth snaps
like a rubber band being pulled by opposing trucks
The volume overwhelms my mind
like the flooding of tides after 40 days of rain
My stomach turns
like the churning of the milk mades hands
My feet move from this place
like they are treading through quick sand in the Indian jungle
My eyes tighten away from the wet filling
like the barrel that is soaked in the stock's sacrifice
The quiet room falls on my scream
in the same tone as the closed fire place blankets the floor with its breath
This fever consume and holds me as I drink the wine of jealousy and paranoia
No comments:
Post a Comment