Untitled 2
It forces itself through mea bolt of lightening
entered and now must
escape.
It streams through my veins
sinks into my stomach
clogs into my mind
Looking for a gap
a hole
a mistake.
I feel it in my heart beat
in the weakness of my stomach
in the pounding of my temples.
I hear it screaming
as it runs, almost out of breath
but still very alive.
Anything can let it in,
a mistake
a bad mark
a memory
but only one thing
can let it out.
That one thinkg is a scrape
along healed flesh
The blood trickling
down a forearm
funally letting the veins cry,
releasing electricity.
Pamela