drowned in
dow
n
(p)ers
when the u^
don't lift me high enough
under the doctors name
when the pencil's lead
certifies that youre dead
when the beeping noise
holds its pause
it remains: your heart has its flaws
A disease?...no..
but call it that,
yeah why not
when your sleeve, too big, touches
your wrist, too small,
and your yellow raw teeth crunches
the water is your goddess
and then you wake up sweating
from starving sleeps where youre over heating
you swallow your weeping,
and throw up your water
only [harderandharder]
becoming soaked in bile like a kid with diarrhea
and theres
no escaping the fate youve surrounded yourself with
trying to lean in for a kiss,
but swing after swing--you apparently miss
breath smells like
vomit..anyhow
bruised, hit after hit
© 2008, Angie Romans. All rights reserved.
No republication of this material, in any form or medium, is permitted without express permission of the author.
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