The fear of slipping.
Of falling.
Of failing.
The horrifying thrill of weightlessness overtaking you as you fall to your demise....
D
o
w
n
.
D
o
w
n
.
.
D
o
w
n
.
.
.
Dead.
I curl into myself, my flesh rotting from my own disdain.
My words taste rancid as they well up in my mouth.
A horrible mass of inaudible phrases,
empty and aching.
I wish to
rip out
my esophagus.
Manually
e x t r a c t
what
festers
within
my
throat.
Acidic tears dissolve my eyes.
My retinas
d r a i n
D
o
w
n
my contorted face.
Melting my flesh.
It blisters.
How can one be so afraid of f
a
l
l
i
n
g
when all they have ever done is stood still?
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Thoughts
PoetryA collection of mostly free verse poems and short stories. Sometimes it is nice to simply clear your head. *Trigger warnings: descriptions of disturbing themes such as: body horror, death, interactions with the uncanny, topics in biology, and suici...
