Emerald St. Swan
Sep 4, 2018 · 1 min read

A spined bottles riddles at my being for taking a long sips of vodka every night

I worship the burn they clip inside my esophagus

As they run over my gut to my spine

Felt entitled by the sore on my vocal cords

A steady place of unconsciousness while inhaling my 2nd bottle of aspirin this month

They told me to stop abbreviating my emptiness into a rope knot

How could i do that? I said

I wont sneeze into unconsciousness just because my mind told me too

But recently they become silent, tired of whining over a person who refuse to be cured, they said.

So i painted my hue in red and yellow and stay silent in my momentum

Hesitate my sweat and palpitation a few seconds longer

I do not weep, i do not bite back, but stay where i was

Or curl up in a ball when nobody is watching

-an-

Emerald St. Swan

Written by

I am a pastime amateur writer who writes to ease my flaking cranium and clogged throat twisted vocal cords. Likes handcrafting and drinks my coffee religiously