Pain Has a Name – a poem

Who would have thought so much could wait,

Slumbering beneath the skin?; slow explosions glow,

Erupting along muscle ripples, the secret name

Unknown until the guest has settled, unwanted,

A home made like wasps honeycombing



It pulls from tendons stretched to itching point,

Nerve impulses blended in with blazing dumbness

To align all corridors of the mind, inveigling into

Cracks, crannies filled to bursting with the effluvia

Let loose, burning amok in patterns without




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