The indefinable feeling

That there are cobwebs on my hands.


I twitch and moan
And yelp with such indignity
Brushing my hands against the coat
And trying to rid myself
Of the feeling


It’s not easy
To be rid
Of the cobwebs
And when they are gone
I breathe a little easier
And, sighing, cough my guts up with the stress
And pain
Of everything from which
They have distracted me


But usefully
And only for a moment.

About dcduell

Failed musician. Trying to write for TV. Never sure quite where I'm headed. Serial un-funnyman. I used to do a lot of writing. Sometimes I still do. So I decided to put it on the internet. I'm on Facebook and Twitter. Pretty active on the former, not so much on the latter. Holler at me.
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