Feelings flow;
they come in waves.
Like wet clothes we tumble,
and a loose shoe shows wear.
A baggy shirt proves nothing.
The purpose it serves us is covering
a bottomless pit which
sits inside our stomach.
 
The soul’s hole grows slowly.
It swells in size while we try to hide it.
Its drawn claws crawl
inside our fleshy walls.
It spreads to the chest.
Abs tighten, the neck flexes.
It churns in circles.
The vacuum overflows.
 
It erupts from the gut.
The stomach boils and bursts.
It burns behind the sternum,
and forcefully pours with vigor.
Straining eyes widen while
weakness grasps at ghosts.
A face chasing air is
an exercise in exorcism.
 
A deep breathe
Lets the chest reset.
A moment to pause withdraws
the gnawing pain.
The rain subsides.
The calm of dawn brings a new day
to say thank God,
it feels good to be alive.