Identical to a loose hair
That squiky writhing feeling
Creeps up
Memories in the night
Immediately identifiable
Mimicking that second
Disconnecting from the follicle
A damnable turncoat
Incurring instant wrath
An unwavering task
Taking over your body
Until complete
𓍯𓂃
Frantically scratching
With repulsion
At eyes and mouth
Running to the mirror
To ferret it out
Every millimeter of skin
That felt the touch
Crawling with revulsion
Not until the offending sensation
Has been plucked off
And flushed away
Can lights be put out
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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More stories from K.B. Silver and writers in Poets and other communities.
CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 10 days ago
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶5 days ago in Petlife
Comments (1)
You captured this with very appropriate imagery for revulsion on all counts. That "offending sensation..." Pretty much.