F-Ward (Here We Come!)
On the verge of another breakdown,
suicidal to the very bone
she takes another shot
of gin and misery.
And screams perfectly
inside her head
as her soul falls backwards
in upon itself.
And the squirming starts
again its movement
and rhythm of anger.
The clawing inside her
brain and face
makes her fidget and jump
like a bag of drowning rats.
She tries to focus
and concentrate
upon the curse that is circling her
but again
she ends up too dizzy.
Collapsing from exhaustion
her mind ledge-leaps
into sleep
which is the safest place
for her at the moment.
suicidal to the very bone
she takes another shot
of gin and misery.
And screams perfectly
inside her head
as her soul falls backwards
in upon itself.
And the squirming starts
again its movement
and rhythm of anger.
The clawing inside her
brain and face
makes her fidget and jump
like a bag of drowning rats.
She tries to focus
and concentrate
upon the curse that is circling her
but again
she ends up too dizzy.
Collapsing from exhaustion
her mind ledge-leaps
into sleep
which is the safest place
for her at the moment.
© Paul Tristram 2013
Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories and sketches published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight, this too may pass, yet.
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