constriction

a dull throb at the back of my neck
               urging my head to topple right off
a glass bubble in the small of my back
               waiting to burst into slashing shards
an ache under my skin
               pulsing to the rhythm wrong, wrong
a feeling of otherness
               making me wish the separation was complete

my short legs unwieldy like a newborn foal’s
               my head heavy as a stone
my small frame freakishly gargantuan
               in the body that was once a home

cheeks flushed
               eyes bloodshot
face puffy
               flesh swollen
fingers brittle
               waiting to break
a pain behind the eyes
               that no sleep can relieve

I wish I could escape,
I wish I could be free:

curling my toes
               tucking my legs
hugging my arms
               bowing my head

sinking inward
               closer, smaller
until I just
               disappear

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7 thoughts on “constriction

  1. Pingback: Plane Part Deux | Behold the Infinite

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