Stubbed Toe
Stubbed my toe but I’m still dead.
Moments feel like organs.
And hours are my taste buds tasting organs.
It feels like I’m dead like paint chips crumbling.
It’s like being born as a centipede over and over.
That’s why stuff happens faster.
Blink and your toe pops off in a field of nowhere.
This is like a severe mental illness.
Except that I have most of my eyes and fingers.
Eat a donut like nothingness.
Stubbed my toe and fell asleep.
Sometimes you need a sharp pain.
Like a tree needs branches trimmed.
Stubbed my toe but still have hallucinations.
It takes so much.
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.
