Seventh Sense

The curse of touching raw
peeling scabs on
healing wounds.
To blind my inner eye
Deny images of falling stars
and burning worlds.

Plug the tinnitus, detritus
of screams.
Not gag on the stench
of armies in retreat,
meat on bleached bones
invading mouth and nose.
The taste of death.

These senses I would lose,
the unfelt, seen, touched.
tasted and known,
songs not sung
and flowers that will not bloom.

To loose the reds, blues and greens
Have only black and white
and silence in my sleep.

– Dave Kavanagh

2 thoughts on “Seventh Sense

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s