A poem by, Brian O’Brien-Olinger

A sensation;
Blood seeping through the night sky.
No words; no speech
No literary attempt to convey the meaning
Of such a disorganised,
Inelegant,
Screaming,
Pain.

Totally, and uncomfortably,
Silent.
Yet it screeches,
And howls,
And scrapes.
No thing can be any thing other
Than part of this all-encompassing
Monster.
This Tragedy.

It’s useless to close eyes or plug ears,
Every nerve and neuron is assaulted
From within,
Without.
The senses melt away,
No tactile interactions,
No visual stimuli,
No bittersweet flavours,
No angel to whisper in the ear,
No flower to smell as sweet,
No.