Carbonated Gas

Scars bottled up into glass 

canteens filled

like soda and carbonated gas,

slipping slipping out,

leaking drops of affliction

down the brim,

trickling, dripping,

imagining the damage 

they’d do.

But 

composed instinct

and catabolic intentions

cause tightness in the lid,

compression bubbling the

convex vial of wounds inside 

again.

Silently simmering,

annihilation flees through 

the porous glass,

venomous sedation

slithering words that smite,

that just might,

sever the flask.

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Quite a cynical image you paint unto my brain, and I enjoyed every minute of it.

[demureminds]

thank you!