Untitled

People live in my stomach while worms hide in my eyes
They'll do what they need to survive
They'll teach me when to cry and why I criticize
They invited a guest over this evening
I can feel my stomach stretching and my eyes squiggling
I can feel my brain thinking about what I want to think about
I can feel a dark matter
I can feel things shifting
They're talking about me
It wasn't flattering
They feel
As your tear
My disgust
My Self
Pitied
Why?

Spare change?

Reviews

[kris reed]

Like your poem; don't know if it's intentional, but I like how it tapers off making a tapeworm.

[Stifle]

I just write what comes to mind. Thank you for checking it out!