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allison-knowlesPoems
tracing my spine with wine I can imagine a perfect line, inside opening my throat, a red river rushes through my drunken esophagus, parellel to the column of vertebrae keeping these tight shoulders of mine off the sticky floor I sigh in response to, this floor, offering me a minute of rest I wont succumb to the sweet hum, of apathy rejecting the proposal to waste more time with effort I stand tall preserving the upward position of my skull emotions I didn't mean to see, surfacing now a hot mess, with flushed cheeks I've become my spine at times feels weak a false strength calls out offering a sense of cheap stability This time, I refuse
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Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
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tracing my spine with wine I can imagine a perfect line, inside opening my throat, a red river rushes through my drunken esophagus, parellel to the column of vertebrae keeping these tight shoulders of mine off the sticky floor I sigh in response to, this floor, offering me a minute of rest I wont succumb to the sweet hum, of apathy rejecting the proposal to waste more time with effort I stand tall preserving the upward position of my skull emotions I didn't mean to see, surfacing now a hot mess, with flushed cheeks I've become my spine at times feels weak a false strength calls out offering a sense of cheap stability This time, I refuse
allison-knowles
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allison-knowles
Canadian
Mar 23, 2012
Mar 23, 2012 at 9:36 PM UTC
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