Not Tonight, Dear

photo by Vincent Fournier

 Patricia had a rather subtle manner of letting her husband know when she wasn’t in the mood.

submitted for The Mag, Mag151

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

Inhale

the air stuffed

full

stench of every molecule ever here

     cigarette smoke

     potpourri

     blueberry muffin

     diaper wipes

     sweat

coeds packed in phone booth

no air left to breath

Pounding, pounding

tympanic torture

world off-key

feedback squealing shattering

VOLUME

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

sleep

submitted for Sunday Scribblings #284, Sensation