It starts
In the pit of my stomach
Roiling raging roaring
Noxious
Overtaking thought-stragglers
Forgotten words
And half-remembered smiles
That stumbled too slowly
Down the road to Rational
And It swallowed them whole
Before slithering forward
Searching for prey
It feeds
In the depths of my conscious
Eclipsing encircling engorging
Bittersweet
Splish-splash-splattering
Viscous globules of poison
And turning the knobs beneath
My television-eyes
Until everything around her
Is of the deepest green
It beats
A pulse beneath every word I speak
Replaying recreating reminding
Me
Of every word and move
She makes
Her hands on his shoulder
Her voice in his ear
It paints
Her
In shades of
Emerald-forest-field
Until her skin
Matches It
And to me
She is the color of the
Lime-green curtains
In our window and
I cannot see her
Through the verdant haze
Or speak because
My voice gives me away
Every time
As
It consumes
My thoughts
Instigating infuriating
Little red ant
Crawls over my heart
Hiding from
Rationality
In a cloud of olive-dust
Little blood-spark
Sticking stabbing stinging
My bitten tongue
Longs to be set free
From Rational
Longs to be controlled
By It
Longs to ask her
Why exactly she’s
Playing performing pretending
Not to know
When she should
That he’s
Not hers...
He’s mine.
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
It starts
In the pit of my stomach
Roiling raging roaring
Noxious
Overtaking thought-stragglers
Forgotten words
And half-remembered smiles
That stumbled too slowly
Down the road to Rational
And It swallowed them whole
Before slithering forward
Searching for prey
It feeds
In the depths of my conscious
Eclipsing encircling engorging
Bittersweet
Splish-splash-splattering
Viscous globules of poison
And turning the knobs beneath
My television-eyes
Until everything around her
Is of the deepest green
It beats
A pulse beneath every word I speak
Replaying recreating reminding
Me
Of every word and move
She makes
Her hands on his shoulder
Her voice in his ear
It paints
Her
In shades of
Emerald-forest-field
Until her skin
Matches It
And to me
She is the color of the
Lime-green curtains
In our window and
I cannot see her
Through the verdant haze
Or speak because
My voice gives me away
Every time
As
It consumes
My thoughts
Instigating infuriating
Little red ant
Crawls over my heart
Hiding from
Rationality
In a cloud of olive-dust
Little blood-spark
Sticking stabbing stinging
My bitten tongue
Longs to be set free
From Rational
Longs to be controlled
By It
Longs to ask her
Why exactly she’s
Playing performing pretending
Not to know
When she should
That he’s
Not hers...
He’s mine.
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