Photo by Tim Goedhart on Unsplash
Reaching for something to hold, shaky hands grasp empty space instead
edges begin to blur and shake, hazy and dim as colours fade to grey
the air is thick and heavy on the tongue: too harsh, too bitter, to swallow
whining increases, a dreadful buzzing, like the drone of a thousand wasps,
air struggles to be inhaled, along blocked nasal tunnels, suffocating the mind.
About the Creator
Joe O’Connor
New Zealander
English teacher
Short stories and poems📚
Please be honest- I would love your constructive feedback, as it's the only way I'll get better. Would rather it was pointed out so I can improve!
Currently writing James The Wonderer
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More stories from Joe O’Connor and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (8)
well done
Love how you did this, Joe! The word choices here create such a strong visceral experience. "shaky hands grasp empty space instead" sets a sense of such longing and desperation here! Toward the end, I heard those wasps and felt the collaspe of lungs and thoughts! Well done!
Feels unsettling and just a little off kilter, very well done!
This is visceral. Excellent work.
Woah! I felt this one! From the very first line I felt off balance and grappling. Very well done, Joe!
A disturbing read, just as it should be! Expert-level writing, Joe!
This is terrifying: whining increases, a dreadful buzzing, like the drone of a thousand wasps... Nice work.
Oh, this is another powerful, visceral entry from you, Joe...and actually, if I do say so myself works as a companion piece rather well to my own - https://goodofferxhub.live/poets/five-one-grounding%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E%3C/p%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3C/div%3E%3Cdiv class="css-w4qknv-Replies">