Thursday, 12 December 2013

Second Poem

When my hands follow my hair
-from up, slowly into down.
My head feels weak

--
Under my hair is skin.
Under my skin is skull.
But still.
Mellow-

--
When I touch the mellow part-
carefully, with my fingers.
My head feels weak.

--
The body is paralized,
the eyes wide open-
and it gives me the creeps.
But I can't stop touching it.

--
It feels like I am touching the very end of my brain.
All connected and slick.
And I pass out for one moment.

--
Then, suddenly,
I look at my hands.
I lost control

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