Migraine

There is no relief
While I’m waiting
Inside plush sheets
Where these headaches
Are the least of my
Waking nightmares
Which assure me
Fears come true.

Death burns
Beneath that face,

Making pressure
My only savior

To bind this brain
Growing desperate
For an answer
Even if scared.

I’m tired
Of pillows and worries
Like agonies
Kneading old corpses
Upon gentle slabs
Whose torture
Cradles traumas
Soft to their touch.

When will pain
Finally cease
On carousels
Carrying bodies,

Such feathery pits
Finding freedoms

At their bottoms
When falling so ill?

Escaping
Assumes all pain
Was worth what dream
Remains living
Beyond those eyes
Seeing blotches
Near their edges
Almost asleep –

Nauseous sounds
Getting louder
During silence
Echoing static

Tolling bells
Relentlessly ringing
Despite empty rooms
Still unchecked,

Leaving chambers
Harboring noise
Between eardrums
Playing loud music

After years
Demanding experience
Relieve deep rage
Through some song.

Perhaps,
Tonight I’ll expire
Watching TV
Cast its bright shadows

Upon walls
Whose filthy appearance

Reminds me
Hurt always lasts.

  • J. Pigno

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