Sick
My stomach turns slowly,
It’s contents moving about,
becoming saturated
In the acid that climbs into
My throat, burning like liquor.
Sweat beads squeeze out
Of my pores as I am suddenly
Uncomfortably warm,
The waves of wetness slick
My skin despite attempts
to continually wipe it dry.
My mouth fills with saliva
As the nausea intensifies,
And I try to comfort myself
By rocking back and forth
And whispering calming words
Into the dark, empty room.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
