literature

Insomniac Cliffs, Falling

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EmaciatedandEpitaphs's avatar
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Literature Text

A rising wail inside of me.
Accusations of rough inaccuracy.  
The pointed-finger of my accuser, that grating, raspy whisper.

Insomnia-asphyxiation.  
I try to choke oxygen from fabric, yet cloth and carbon-dioxide clog my esophagus.  
He slurs praise and profanities at my bedside, prattling on about high thread-count consistency, Egyptian-cotton blessings.  
Oceans of unconsciousness will swallow you whole.

Exhaustion is an echo, a ghost.  
Every breathe I take in is unadulterated elation.  
Periwinkle bubbles sputter along my spine as wispy linen-waves sift betwixt my fingers.  
Lithe sensation swells inside my skin, like glass-nerves pulsating fireworks.

I remain nothing but transparent flesh, cellophane feelings caught in a crystal chest.
Intertwining the tangible and elusive
was inevitable disaster for the two of us.
© 2015 - 2024 EmaciatedandEpitaphs
Comments7
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BloodlustStephi's avatar
I really love the last line.