Migraine

Arising with each rounding swell to a height
And falling, weightless, into the abyss,
I gradually drown. Drown drenched in night.
The rain's still pelting with a rattler's hiss.

Goddamned gale, hail and rain: How in God's hell
Did I slip in this ocean of despair!?
A rotting corpse in an abandoned well,
A worm in an old mealy windfall pear.

Enough self pity: at least I'm alive:
Though crushing blackness pounds this skull in pain,
With my numb jaws I mouth again the jive:
"I must be thankful, at least I'm alive".

I hope this crap'll keep me from the grave:
Knives, pills, and windows, and I'm getting BRAVE!

Anissa Gage

If you have any comments on this poem, Anissa Gage would be pleased to hear from you.