Headache

Jessica YungPoetry 2009Leave a Comment

Throb, throb

Pulsing

Strong and clear

Concentrated, deep and piercing

Squishing, compressed inside

The pea-sized cabinet.

As if submerged in icy water

But heated fast, not cold

Throb, throb

I cannot think a single word

My brain structure’s lost its mold.

Surely!

Stones hitting at the rear

Can you not see a being here?

Watch out!

New daggers flying

To your skull

From all directions

You can’t see them

Hear them

Touch them

But you can feel them.

Strong and clear

Concentrated, deep and piercing

Squishing, compressed inside

The pea-sized cabinet.

Headache

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