This is an older stand-alone poem that I thought deserved a new home here amongst its peers
The viscous, or is it the vicious, ruby drops don't stop.
Silk scarlet pillows play the bloody
wounded on virginal white sheets.
Then droplets run in a super
or is it my stupor,
my Stupor stained in red?
Beads glowing ...my head is lolling,
tossing and tolling, blood bead
rolling, doling out the red torment in my head.
This isn't my stream of consciousness;
it's the bloodstream
in my head,
Pounding in my bed,
Reveling in red.
YOU ARE READING
The Pain Chronicles
PoetryI have had to witness several close relatives deal with both chronic pain, and acute pain, as well as pain that is predicted to be lifelong. It can be devastating, even suicidal, but with treatment, they may be allowed to live a full life. This set...
