It creeps up, like an old hunter
Stalking about in the flickering shadows of my mind.
Then the hunter moves- multiplies-
Into a thundering, white-tailed mass
Streaking across my consciousness
A comet trail of blinding pain echoing behind my eyes
Light and Sound! The tick of the softest clock
The most innocent sunbeam playing through the window
Evolve from annoyance to torment
The whole world narrows to the timpani of the blood
Pumping relentless bass through my skull
Reverberating in my nerveless fingers.
An aurora hangs in the air
Outlining everything in unreal light
It shimmers in greens and blues and wicked, bleeding reds.
Pain is rendered visible.
Yet there is something beautiful to it.
I’m dizzy with it all- skewed like a Chagall ceiling.
Then the sumatriptan kicks in
And the world tilts back into focus
Life is no longer a surrealist painting
The carnival ride I’ve been trapped on
Stuck at the stomach-clenching top
Is now finally, blissfully, over.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem