Let me have some Novocaine
Stuck underneath my eyelids,
so they fail to crease again. To what pressure?
As if I actually enjoy the salty pleasure
As if what brims near these lashes are bearable.
You suffer the silent waterfalls because it's simply
not kosher to declare it
My gum lines tremble, they soften and wet
as my tongue gets all the more parched
I'm thirsty stranded in this vast sea of inconvenient tides
And all the while I'm trying to hide this
My gaze shifts downwards more frequently for a reason
A twirling pit? The stomach feels more like one gaping hole
swallowing. I can feel the acid, burning.
The knots were professionally wrung,
so even with my fingers blistering,
my nails chiseled raw by what you call effort,
I cannot untie one single obstruction.