Writing While Worried

Posted: July 18, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Seconds are spent making scribbles

into words.

Then the abrupt

change,

the buzz sits like a heavy crown

and hurts like a bruise

on top of my head.

 

Electric eels no bigger

than worms

crawl beneath my skin.

They work their way down

my neck-

 

my spine, a railway-

and enter my arms.

 

I feel them squirm atop my bones.

 

Words change.

They are mine and no longer

mine. 

Each dark letter is

an abyss

pressed onto paper.

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