A matchstick agaainst my tongue,
a tumor in my brain,
a presense in my body
leaving me with no sane.
Quiet anticipation
crawling up my spine
and a light that isnt there
darkening my mind.
Closing doors and oppurtunities,
bottled feelings and such
when will i see it over,
How will i know whats too much?
Author notes
Prompt/titles
number 8/ A matchstick against my tongue
A contest entry
- brilliance is birthed at the end of your pen. by lowercase prelude.
3500 points, ended July 3, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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The first six lines make it sound like it's a sickness, maybe not a real sickness, but like something "eating" at the speaker - 'crawling up (her) spine' But then it changes. I feel a disconnect between the first 6 lines and the second. Maybe it's just me. Both sections conjure up beautiful - painful - images, but (for me at least) they don't seem to connect to eachother. In the past I have written poetry where one poem becomes two, or part of one poem goes with something else I read. I love the angst in this piece. Maybe if I continue to re-read, I'll get the connection!! :
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