I'm feeling emo today.
When my brain turns about, there's the back of my eyes:
A darkness built up out of secrets and lies,
Growing each time I am what I despise,
And I'd be blind to it if I could.
Behind my ears rings out the high wailing voice
Which will screech at my glee but at pain rejoice.
Lending doubt to my actions, it laughs at each choice
And I'd deafen myself if I could.
The base of my tongue tastes the tang of despair:
The brimstone of hell and life's pain both lie there.
A flavor that ebbs and then suddenly flares,
And I'd lose all my taste if I could.
Deep down in my nose is the scent of defeat,
Of each battle lost, of each task I can't meet.
The fumes burn my nostrils and make my veins bleed,
And I would smell naught if I could.
At the ends of my fingers, a warmth emanates
That wards off the chill from the cowardly Fates.
An aching that cleanses, a hunger that sates,
And I will reach out while I can.
By my hand,
~Michael Akerman
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