Treasure Island

Paul Celano

(04-26-82 / Michigan)

A Painful Thought


Neck muscles vigorously strained
Pulled out like a wet frail rotted rope
Fastened together by a rusted lock with piercing sharp edges
Porcelain beads of sweat cling to pulsating vines

Staring up, as if something of hope is there
Intense powered complex thinking
No movement, just a frozen dead stare
Straight glance of light into a darkness covered cave

A battle royale of steroid induced thoughts
The mind, a cage match of soft pinkish flesh
Each thought it wearing armor of dull chilled spikes
Pain shoots through the cranium as each thought collapses into the cage

The eyes, a vortex into another world, look onward
Tears stream down of drunk crimson liquid
Leaving a salted burned trail down each toughened cheek
Stinging each eye with a impoverished sob

The mouth of dried dirty sand paper stays creaked open
A spiral of silk heated air escapes, but with no sound attached
Quivered lips cut from bitter winded blades
A soiled red with a blanket of cotton white

The position of deep depressed nauseating thoughts
The body is powerless and deathly limp
Glued to the seated area, as if it always lived there
A doll, a puppet to its overpowering super brain

Stuck in a painful vision
Will I return?

Submitted: Sunday, January 18, 2009

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