The cells are rising.
The heart is beating,
one at a time, cells in line.
There are good words for these things,
there are nice words to say
but I will have nothing of it
I'm performing the motions
of a healthy individual
Breathing, living
in the usual way.
Words have nothing on me,
we say
And sometimes the eyes are too tired
to express.
Sometimes the surface skin
pressed against one's neck
The warmth of blood cells beating
as the muscles tighten
Sometimes that's all one needs
a natural rhythm for sporadic inhalation
I'm a little sad today.
Seratonin malfunction, that is all.
but is that really all....
is what we say.
A contest entry
- Intricate Simplicities by Asabouros..
600 points, ended December 4, 2008, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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