It tastes like sandpaper,
It feels like sore muscles,
It looks like a smile
But it sounds like sigh.
It swirls in my fingers,
Up my shoulders
And up my spine
Into my brain
Like a terrified tornado on a rampage.
Sharing makes us feel alive
But this is the type of sharing
That prefers to clutter
And horde inside of my skull.
Always there,
The fears that never leave my mouth
But drip onto crumpled paper
Through my ink stained fingertips.
It wears itself under your eyes
Like fatigued stories spoken in the quietness of night.
Always there.
YOU ARE READING
Late Night Feels
PoetryThose intense feelings that tangle their arms around your body and try to eat you alive, all wrapped up into this collection of poems. Enjoy.
