Saturday, November 5, 2005

Head problems

Major headache version

The Angry Prisoner

Like an angry prisoner
locked up in a cell
He rattles at the gate
and tears up the bed.

He keeps me from writing,
his screaming cripples me;
he bites on every nerve,
and chews on every vein.

He claws against the walls
that hold him within
until his nails are jagged,
his fingers bleeding.

I want him released,
but I don’t have the key.
The prisoner swells in pain,
his suffering becomes me.

Minor headache version

The Spoilt Child

Like a naughty child
grounded to his room,
he shouts from the window
and jumps on the bed.

I’d like to ignore him,
continue my writing,
but I can feel him
scribbling on the walls.

He stamps his little feet
across the wooden floor.
He throws his toys about,
destroys the color blocks.

I put on some music
and read to him a story,
but at every word or beat
he digs his nails into me.

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