I feel alive
like I woke from the dead
stumbled out
bone legs
grainy hands
petrified ribs
worms fall from my hair
stagger
long for wet lips
can’t recall
what sweaty palms feel like
or itchy ears
the old wives’ tales that signal
this thing
inside of us
we’ve no control over
yet yearn for it later
editors note:
For that thing, we crave and cringe together. – mh clay