Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Migraine 3

Hot sun heats head
Right eye cherry tomato overripe
ready to burst on
optic nerve stem smashed
into eye socket too small 
to contain pressurized pulp
And what of the left?
Molten bubbling mass
gelatinous overflow to
brainpan catch
The light, the light
angry striking flashes
sear corneal skin
Eyelids scraped
artichoke leaves
the air stuffed
stench of every molecule ever here
     cigarette smoke
     blueberry muffin
     diaper wipes
coeds packed in phone booth
no air left to breath
Pounding, pounding
tympanic torture
world off-key
feedback squealing shattering
Don't touch!
heavy, hot, choking hands send
Tilt-O-Whirling head spinning
faster, faster, faster
Close the mad carnival 
Put out the lights
Sleep, sleep
if only


darev2005 said...

Oooooh. That made my head hurt. Haven't had one like that in awhile.

Brian Miller said...

yeah, way too vivid...i am in pain from the reading...smiles.

Dave King said...

Went right through me and out the other side - as my mum would have said! (It is that good!)

Morning said...

your words are full of imagery,

deep piece.

JJ Roa Rodriguez said...

made me think of my worst headache ever...

good one!

hope u had that sleep...


haikulovesongs said...

so sad that you go through the agony of migraines ~ it even hurt to read!
d ♥