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stomach


i am curled up cold stretched out weak
who knows what the one word is
i am curled up sickness
it is so uncomfortable and it does not matter
i tried to tell you
but none of you ever listen
come come come 'round again
never listening
it doesn't matter how many rows of eyes are blinded
each and every lapse is just as fragrant
but the potency of the sting
but the nothing
even the mindlessness escapes me
and there is a pain down beside
the inside ache or what not quite could this pain be
pretend to care, that is all i ask
or let me go away or force me off
like all of you should have done
throttle the blade
take it in and suffocate
the stomach is your enemy
take some time and demonstrate 'just barely'

© 2007 andrew w. powell/lackthrow
*originally posted on darkpoetry.com 2007*

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from compilation tracks (selection 1), released June 10, 2014

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Lackthrow Salunga Landisville, Pennsylvania

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