An amateur word-picture, just for fun–though the experience certainly was not.
*****
They turned me into a sickly sun set high above the earth
I scorched everything I touched
Blistered that desert
Heartbeats and mustangs gone loco together
And I could not tell the cowboys guns
From the pounding
And the pounding in my head
They turned me into an arctic plain
And icy winds played over me
Numb and barren and throbbing
The freezing and thawing, the cracking
Pain in my back, my legs, my teeth
And the pounding
And the pounding in my head
They buried me in oblivion
For hours I hardly woke
Except to ask for water and medicine
They cannot make me forget
The one who carries the pain of the world
Who heals the pounding
And the pounding
Oh the pounding
Healed the pounding
And the pounding in my head.
Ugh. Sorry!
The poem though? Yes, aptly put! 😀
I think Poe would like that repetitive pounding bit at the end.
Me like!