Conversation With Pain Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

You
hurt the
spirit that
inhabits my
body, like red
tide in the spring
of living water. You
force yourself through
every interstice, as tinting
color converts white to fuchsia
A thousand thorns pricking every
cell. I stop you with needles dripping
with poison. You surrender; then quickly
return with vengeance

Sleep is my friend, my
army against you. And even that you steal
with every violence. Why do you stick to
me like a horrid leech? You are like
the polluted air everywhere. You
are like the gatecrasher to a
party. Unwelcome like a
pariah but always
there.