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"sssssssssssssssssssssssssssss" poems
Water running through toes and over elbows. Cascading down forearms and up necks. Falling in stampedes from underneath eyelids PIT PAT PIT PAT PIT PAT Onto shoelaces and ankles and Fabric draped across our laps. This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in Covers. The sensation of a cold breeze Swooping us up on its burdensome wings Only to ask “Where’s my tip?” and the shrugging shoulders That follow. The rattle of empty pockets. The Shattering of glass and a cry for HELP So incredibly ARDUOUS it slices your throat Like a steel blade SSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS And the clock doesn’t stop ticking Around and around until you’re too dizzy. This is the feeling of water running through toes and over elbows. Cascading down forearms and up necks. This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in covers. The feeling of a cold breeze swooping us up on it burdensome wings. The feeling of a cry so arduous it slices your throat like a steel blade.
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Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
chamyie
Something about feeling and sound
Water running through toes and over elbows. Cascading down forearms and up necks. Falling in stampedes from underneath eyelids PIT PAT PIT PAT PIT PAT Onto shoelaces and ankles and Fabric draped across our laps. This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in Covers. The sensation of a cold breeze Swooping us up on its burdensome wings Only to ask “Where’s my tip?” and the shrugging shoulders That follow. The rattle of empty pockets. The Shattering of glass and a cry for HELP So incredibly ARDUOUS it slices your throat Like a steel blade SSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS And the clock doesn’t stop ticking Around and around until you’re too dizzy. This is the feeling of water running through toes and over elbows. Cascading down forearms and up necks. This is the feeling of an afternoon spent entangled in covers. The feeling of a cold breeze swooping us up on it burdensome wings. The feeling of a cry so arduous it slices your throat like a steel blade.
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