Trying to flex the fingers..grabbing the pillow ,n arm underneath..
twisting and toiling..writhing in pain , coiling up..
air feelin cold against the dampened cheek , a tear leaving its trace behind..
pulling the sheets up to the neck , turning the lamp on , the hand with the needle hittin the lamp shade..
wincing eyes , reachin for the book at the side table ..
flipping pages ...outlines of words gettin blurred..
anger , woe , disappointment
a point where the visions fades out and numbness creeps up.. needle pricks climb up the spine..
holding a hand over the lamp , warmth , life , sense, touch , vision , smell , sounds..noises
screams , waves lapping
i lock the doors again ,
clogging all the seives emitting light outside..
Behind this door,
That never did open;
Lay my tended garden,
No one ever did explore.
Sunflowers, daisies, and roses,
All colors kept alive & bright;
By the springs that flow,
With waters sweet,
reflecting light.
Many came;
some returned,
Thinking it was locked;
Some stayed a while,
Looked around,
Yet never found a key;
Funny how now they complain;
When they could've knocked,
Or just asked me?
