Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
My mind is evaporating, an ego going up in steam
leaving a fragmented self, simple and defined.
Sensory organs play an electrical melody,
as electrons haphazardly dance across my skin.
Thoughts bustling through neurons turns my mind to static.
Eliza Fairchild
Written by
Eliza Fairchild  Ithaca
(Ithaca)   
563
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems