I reach my hand out
into the air
and watch the blackness
absorb into my skin.
My fingertips turn black,
dying dead,
spreading up my arm
like a spiderweb.
I can soon feel
my heart skip a beat,
or two, or possibly
not beating at all.
My lips feel cold and blue
as if I am at Death's
heavy door.
I gasp for air,
my last breath surely,
as I pump the foaming soap.
I wash my hands
and wash again, and
once more for good measure.
The blackness fades,
my lips turn pink,
and my heart beats true
once more.
Written by K, Copyright 2013
Wow I'm not sure what this one is about I've read it through several times and still find myself feeling puzzled.
ReplyDeleteAnyway thanks for visiting my blog. Say I notice you have already posted one each day since the solstice why don't you join the one a day for a solar year too.
It is actually a poem about contamination ocd; how simply being close to something I internalize as "dirty" can make me feel and hand washing loops. It was meant to be a little elusive/mysterious because that is how it really is.
ReplyDeleteI am not sure how I want to challenge myself for the new year. Blogwise, I was thinking of trying to challenge myself to promote acrostic poetry (which I have grown to love), by starting up a weekly meme of acrostic prompts. I am not sure how that will go, but will be a challenge for me to stick with that. I will have to write a post about resolutions here soon after pondering more.
ReplyDelete