12419. It burns

It burns

Doesn’t it?

That molten flow that surges from within

Erupting, spewing, gushing from your mouth

Your coughs cracking into magma

Harden into igneous growls

Can you feel the soot

Staining your lips?

It settles on your tongue

Parched and dry

Every breath fills your lungs with ash

I can’t imagine the pain

Scalding to your core

You’ve held it for so long

Skin hardening to granite

Tectonic plates for armour

But still the lava pushes through the cracks

Searing your skin

Drawing rivulets like scars

Coursing through your veins so viciously

That if you bite your tongue

You can taste sulfur

And it burns.


So, I’ve been made aware that it is National Poetry Writing Month. Naturally, I thought it would therefore be the perfect time to emerge from underneath my mound of university work to share some poetry for the occasion.

This one was in response to a prompt from #NaPoWriMoxNidhScraps which was: ‘What does anger taste like?’

I’ve been playing around with Canva for a while now, so the post you see on my instagram is the product of that experience. One day, I’ll settle on a default design that I’ll use as a theme and an – what’s that word again? – ‘aesthetic’. Until such a time, my only ‘aesthetic’ will be my eclecticism. Or, to summarise: my #daedalianism

As for being late to these prompts and to National Poetry Writing Month in general, blame it on the trepverter effect.

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