Old Achilles , how I abhor your fate
You became famous for your tendon
I am aching in the red mist of gout pain.
Crystal needles pierce all my joints,
Explosive torture, red swollen anguish
I breathe soreness, my mind is a big blue bruise
Don’t approach me, don’t dare to touch !
I am red and inflamed with this violent torment.
Stabbed joints crying with a cracking sound.
I am wrapped in coldness and want to forget
A sleepless tired man besieged in the
Cruel mist of burning scarlet pain.
poetic soul (c)
4/7/03 at 16:40
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