it pushes against my mind,
invading the tiny spaces that don't like to see the sun.
it squeezes through the cracks,
worming into my memories.
it blocks my ears,
allowing no sound to come through.
it molds rivers,
blocking the way to breathe,
I am dying inside.
it slows me down,
salt streams come from my eyes,
stinging.
it changes you somehow,
some way;
sickness.
YOU ARE READING
now, we write
Poetrythe words they flood into the hollow spaces of your brain. the words they flood into the hollow spaces of my brain. now, we write.
