#hypersensitive
What does it matter,
When I sit stiff in the dark
Music pricking through my eardrums;
Every single little strum
of guitar string
or a piano note;
Swimming along through the bass clef lines
The bassist, often undiscovered
No person hearing his low, warm notes.
His name is not on any
Cover
Not even in the 'artists' thoughts.
But his every strum gets through
Accompanied by a yelp
from my throat
The swirling snail in my ear
Curls up tighter as the waves near,
Fear. Paralyzed.
in fear.
The surge. Surge of thought
No time to breathe No time to stop
No time to think No time to drop
No single remaining train of thought
To listen to the bassists' notes.
Instead, it's the dreaded screech;
Singers voice racing through
my head is too loud
But my vocal cords never loud
enough to make a pleasing sound
A belching hound.
May 14, 2021
May 14, 2021 at 2:13 PM UTC
bitter honey slipping from my lips
an acquired taste of hyper sensitivity
don't whisper to me any pain
it thunders violently- rupturing my brain
molten eyes capturing 1000 frames
processing what a diseased mind poisons
rose lenses shaken from memories
hung to dry into pungent trauma
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 2:35 AM UTC
thinking
that
my
feelings
define
me
and
my
heart
tells
the
TRUTH
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC