By Sarah Gamutan
Five more hours. Tick Tock. The digestive enzymes
are slowly subdued by drinking water flowing down
from esophagus. That big gulp with eyes at wee clock;
bodily need of some dizzy eyesight. Poor birds walking
in circles. With some twinkle? I start to blink keeping
my soul open for strength. But, this is too much. Too
laid- back. Got laid- off. Staring blankly at Nowhere.
Hands cripple and start to be cold. With all ARRGGS
and painful looks, the meaning of starve exists here.
It proliferates ONLY here. Why not THERE? Choosy.
Clutching at Straws 