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Literature Text
I sit.
This morning.
In pain.
My spine.
A writhing serpent.
Of microfractured vertebrae.
A tuning fork.
Of pain.
Unending.
Pain ... that never changes.
Save once.
When you.
When.
You.
Held me.
This morning.
In pain.
My spine.
A writhing serpent.
Of microfractured vertebrae.
A tuning fork.
Of pain.
Unending.
Pain ... that never changes.
Save once.
When you.
When.
You.
Held me.
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It just hurts sometimes. I offer no apologies for this. Go find your own emotions.
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