Gaping.
Somebody pulled the stitches
on your
rag doll mouth.
Your head spins
on your neck
just to keep up.
Your eyes engulf
me like a cold
dark throat. Squeeze
my guts
from afar like I'm a
teen Scream
Queen
writing on bathroom walls
wishing the ink was your blood;
She's too seen.
YOU ARE READING
My Year of Unrest: a collection of poems I wrote in 2020
PoetryA collection of poems from 2020 that act as my diary as I deal with anxiety, starting antidepressants for the first time, the pandemic, and the unstable socio-political climate in the United States. Critique is welcome and encouraged. Some poems ar...
