top of page
Search
  • Anxious Poets Society
    • Apr 23, 2019
    • 1 min read

Teabags


Sweat, blood, and tears,

struggle into the void of disquiet

where nothing gets done.

My forehead misty with fear,

the black, red, and blue painted over pale

the wreckage is breathing.

Empty conversations, eyes diverted

hands locked.

The lungs are teabags,

soaked and used,

until they are flavourless.

 

Kate Gough is a Calgary based poet and a member of the online poetry community. Her work deals with the modernizing of romantic literary sensibilities and the exploration of trauma.

#sweat #blood #tears #fear #lungs #nothing

18 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

I. Your skin is wet paste sticking to a hospital wristband Under an empty wide gaze that sees nothing. Though I imagine how pretty you must look With your friends at the park, Lying on a picnic table,

blank paper sheets waiting to be filled on the study table, she picked her pen up every ink burst’s her spell word by word, she started weaving kingdom—her utopia. before her eyes, an ethereal scenery

More powerful than a locomotive, able to leap reality in a single bound, it’s a nuclear bomb, it’s a super computer: it’s the age-old strain of virulent addiction. Once in its ravenous and raptor claw

bottom of page