A Mess

dizzy. sick.

Darkness surrounds me.

My right brain is squishing against my left tightly.

My head is about to

Explode. 

Opening my eyes,

there is light.

It should be day,

but why are there stars around?

Try to pull myself up,

I Fail.

My limbs are weak;

without any energy. 

Stomach is growling 

for food.

Lips are dry,

demanding for attention.

moisture, perhaps? 

Although I am sick,

are you still willing to kiss me?

Author's Note

bare with me, a sick writer. :(

Reviews

[Laughing-Bear]

When I read this it hit me several ways. I saw it as call from the soul and thus figuratively spoken, as a plea to a lover when one is down in the weather, and as something I once battled the after effects of the bottle one has used to try quieting the nightmares brought on by P.T.S.D., or maybe some combination of the three.
I loved the word picture that comes to mind in the first four lines. An excellent painting with vivid colors for these words! And the last five lines paint a picture leaving a question/statement that slaps the reader awake, am I yours, I need you, and are you here for me!
Excellent poem, keep it up!

Blessings, Laughing-Bear

[Peter Joseph Swanson]

I love it!