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plain-jane-gloryPoems
I have the world I have touched God felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege and here I stand in the middle of this hot room, sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk I can smell it souring with my negligence I stand here sweating, shaking I repeat over and over and over "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" I cannot stop and my chest will not do me the the honour to heave with tears and gasps draining itself of sickness it is wound like an overcompensating clock around itself and collapsing into me surely and too quickly I stand here I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from, slowly like an unkept tap I need a doctor my mind has collapsed onto itself a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards a feast on what remains
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Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
On What Remains
I have the world I have touched God felt his breath on the back of my neck while I dove in and out of the clearest night skies known to any man, living or dead I have drank euphoria down with certain privilege and here I stand in the middle of this hot room, sweat marks lining a ***** and greyed night shirt legs wrapped in clinging and cheap black fabric covered in dog hairs, cat fur and spilt milk I can smell it souring with my negligence I stand here sweating, shaking I repeat over and over and over "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" "I need a doctor" I cannot stop and my chest will not do me the the honour to heave with tears and gasps draining itself of sickness it is wound like an overcompensating clock around itself and collapsing into me surely and too quickly I stand here I watch my oily, reddening face bring swollen eyes that modest salted water drips from, slowly like an unkept tap I need a doctor my mind has collapsed onto itself a Victorian home with roaches climbing in and out of softened floorboards a feast on what remains
plain-jane-glory
Written by
plain-jane-glory
122/Canadian
Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
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