Silken pellets slide down my gorge,
One by one,
They dissolve in my innards,
Spreading their warmth in me,
Like soft kisses on my heart,
Spreading fast, pleasuring me,
Hazing me quick, pulling me into this drowsy state,
This that I cherish,
Pulling me slow into the unconsiousness of pills,
Small circles of love,
Pull into a pigment of tones,
Red, orange, pink,
A haze of beauty, of that I adore.

Awaken in blurred fog,
My vision obscurred,
My ears muffled,
Walking colours fast,
In front lay a pair of eyes,
Staring at me,

Wondering if I too can see

My skin crawls as I feel a touch,
A sharp pin stabbing at my skin,
I let out a loud shriek as I shed a tear
I lay here uncertain of what this world appears to be.

Silken pellets slide down my gorge,
One by one,
They dissolve in my innards,
Spreading their warmth in me,
Like soft kisses on my heart,
Spreading fast, pleasuring me,
Hazing me quick, pulling me into this drowsy state,
This that I cherish,
Pulling me slow into the unconsiousness of pills,
Small circles of love,
Pull into a pigment of tones,
Red, orange, pink,
A haze of beauty, of that I adore.

Awaken in blurred fog,
My vision obscurred,
My ears muffled,
Walking colours fast,
In front lay a pair of eyes,
Staring at me,
Wondering if I too can see

My skin crawls as I feel a touch,
A sharp pin stabbing at my skin,
I let out a loud shriek as I shed a tear
I lay here uncertain of what this world appears to be.

Lara Wilson

Lara Wilson

Editor at NY Literary Magazine
Lara holds a B.A. in Comparative Literature. She's a native New Yorker, an after-school English tutor, and a bookworm.
Lara loves photography and horseback riding.
Lara Wilson

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