7 of 126

by Jon Coe

When your words sound like thumb screws
and your pupils are small and penetrating
Then, when your lips grow thin, my brain spews
and I feel cornered, then I start hyperventilating

When my mind cannot conceive what it is you are saying
save the way you are using those words to make your point
My body reels, until there is only one feeling, I start praying
for to tear down your walls and speak to me, without this disjoint

Then when I cannot take you any more, I think tranquil ground
I hang on to that thought and drift away to it, in my fragile eye
Until you are nothing more than a barking dog, without sound
and I have made my escape, and as I go there, I am gone, goodbye

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Poetry: Escape

by Jon Coe

Poetry: Escape

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