Oozing down the ear canal and then falling --
drip, drip, drip
against my right temple.
drip, drip.
Splattering.
Sliding downstream and pooling in my chest.
And I wake up to this sticky mess, cold black pond, and
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3 comments:
Any better yet?
That's about the best description I've read---including the unfinished line. Hope you feel better soon--I really do.
E.
wow! migraines suck but this poem is amazing!
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