Generic

mental rag 
 
 
reality; 
the crawl of my scalp 
is as torture. i conclude 
it is the birth 
of an agonizing 
episode i know i will 
survive, but before 
it ends will pray 
i do not. 
more likely than reality; 
impossible 
lilliputian sadists 
traverse the contours 
of my cranium, 
they brandish tools 
of extreme percussion 
and diligently pound 
diminutive spikes 
into my skull. 
but, within my veins 
surges liquid fire, 
it burns, inside-out. 
surely, it will purge 
that which would 
devour meand leave 
my ravaged significance 
a useless tatter 
of mental rag. 
 
©tlp 2010