YOUNG ADULT Poem: electrical panels were fabricated in hell, by Zhamira Amaison

Circles my least favorite shape
no voicemail box
chronically digesting news on the brink of no corners
my eyeballs fucking shedding
and the edge of my unconscious seat
begging corners that are not there to soften the defeat

Keys are some type of flag
stone that was never really apart;
my teeth shards of glass
and a mouth that is too full of heart and pounding arteries.
Gum more in mouth than not
the chewing grinding away at what was meant to not dissolve
same thing as your glare
your dull hands
and my dimmed mind,
and the way I can never say goodbye
even after that iron taste.

Author: poetryfest

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