Sick (10/04/2016)

An odd feeling, in my stomach it sits
Like a stone found deep within some pit
But higher still, it's in my chest
A tightened knot of deep unrest
Mixed with frantic muffled fluttering
Of some organ barely stuttering
Then my throat, too, it constricts
A hopeless silent derelict
And with it all, a faint tickle
Inside my body, a crawling prickle
Like acid seeping inside out
Imagination, there's no doubt
"Feeling" is inaccurate
A fact I can't outrun
Unpleasant yes,
but mostly numb
I'll rest, I'll wait, but it shan't relent
Until my mind slows down- silent.

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