Overflow

There's a flirty storm in my pocket.

Growing soothingly throughout the days

Attached onto my ashen tangled arteries.

I'm feeling very afraid of what it can think.

As it slowly crawls into my decisions.

Eating off what used to make sense.

I'm so sick of having no spine to sleep on.

To seek answers that became problems.

Rapidly devouring what's left of me.

Leaving spits of taint into my thoughts.

My crying hand dives into the chasm.

The hand knows it's a dangerous play.

On my palm, lies a livid glum key.

Day of birth blended on one side.

Key molds itself to an option.

The key glues onto my temple.

©Michael C 2015

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You have a very unique style of writing Miguel and I see that you rarely submit your art. I hope you continue to write and post more of your work. I'm looking forward to reading more from you. CLE

[SleeplessVolcano]

mmmm....no spine to sleep on. Occupational hazard for many, I would think. Very vivid imagery.

Well penned!