Categories
Favorites Poetry

Pin cushion

Okay, so, my face is full of little pins and needles

That I stick there when I’m not using them.

They don’t bother me, and I just keep sticking

As I sit, hemming endless lengths of fraying fabric.

Suddenly, there comes a wave, a sudden freezing of my face,

Prickling at a million nerve endings, throbbing with defeat.

Enough, enough! There are far too many, though I never thought I’d see the day;

There are too many, and I clutch at the needles that fill my skin.

I rip them out, wailing piteously, spewing convoluted complaints

Concerning everything, save for what ails me.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s