Texas.

waking up

gasping, breathless

fighting for air

eyes overflowing with redness

 

a sting like burns left from the sun

gruesome grin, forced as they come

a head the size of Texas

 

on pins and needles

on fire

honest to God

i haven't felt this way ever before

what's it like

your mind always somewhere else,

your head on a pike?

your dreams dead and beheaded,

buried beneath the floorboards

 

how's it feel

to be temporary and subtly ill?

here for a moment, and then it hits you

like a bird into a windshield

 

i bet it hurts

to realize your real purpose and what it's really worth

born to die,

to suffocate on a limited air supply

ever since birth

 

and i bet it burns.

i bet it burns.

Reviews

[Lena M. P.]

Kind of twisted. Morbid look at life. No one says that poetry has to be pretty just vivid. You accomplished that. Kind of combined the act of dying with being stone drunk. Different concept.