Timely Dissonance

The heart pounds, the building pressure pumps tears outward til they pool precariously at the eyelid's edge. It's difficult to swallow, hair stands erect but the skin perspires. Color drains from the knuckles. The diaphragm forgets... to contract, the lungs... suffocate... from negligence. Patience is a lost cause, it has desiccated like the mouth. Nothing to sustain it, no more words to say.


Bone? Heart? Mind? It's difficult to determine the source, as the dissonance seems global. And yet, the sand falls grain by grain, funneled through the hourglass just as it always has.

by Argentine Tango

Comments (6)

It appears like the speech of a Neanderthal shaman to his tribe. This write is not a poem.
Doesn't sound much like the Williams I have known, but what a refreshing take on the income gap.
People attack me for my beliefs. I respond by saying you have no right to attack my dreams that's what this poem says to me
In the end, we all have our share of winters...
Patently belligerent preliminarily, retrospective in the middle, and concurring ultimately.
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