i feel Soul trapped in all of my creases
in wads of yellow lint; in hiding,
a honey-wasp girl passing off her stinger
as a sixth finger, that
single vessel of raw audacious pride
painted with a purpled bruise
leaking Life around the edges
like a red-lipped wound.
with it, i pilfer from the helium-
filled children their incessant joy
in some ashamed form of
a counterfeit Robin Hood
YOU ARE READING
SENSORY OVERRIDE
Poetrya philosophical midnight pilgrimage through elusive facets of feeling & healing
