Been feeling like there’s a lot to say but as soon as the words run past my tongue they dissipate before my lips open. Sometimes the things that make my heart ush and gush are the very things that smush my guts. Restless but tired, insomniac. There’s a word for everything.
Many times tears have blurred my sight, throat constricted and achey. But never do tears flow. It feels trapped inside sometimes and instead of releasing I just swallow, gulp it down and let it build up until it becomes the mucus in the back of my throat.
Sure I love to talk. But I open my mouth and the mucus regurgitates out and suddenly the words of my past are trapped like scorpions in amber. I love a lot of things and somehow that doesn’t stop me from pushing past the yellow caution tape.
I wish I was better at poetry so I could speak with a forked tongue more. Sure I love to talk.
But I don’t want anyone to understand. For fear that they’ll see those past words and actions stuck in my congealed mucus. Open my mouth wide enough and the back of my throat shows. I never cough it out. The slimy sensation pisses me off. I just swallow gulp it down.
Part of me thinks I’ll never change and I know that’s wrong because I’ve already made so much progress. But times like this I feel as though I’m reverting against the grain of time and I wonder if I hadn’t met you if I could think and act the way I do now. I owe it all to you. I’d be nothing without you. And that’s wrong and I know it’s wrong because i was like this before you and I think that sometimes i get so caught up in my fervor that you need to remind me to unwind. You smooth me out like a tablecloth on aged wood. You make me feel like a tapestry. and I wish time would stop so I could infinitely be in this place with you forever while at the same time wishing it would hurry the hell up so I could experience everything else with you.
There’s a buzz all around me constantly and so I hear nothing. I speak nothing. I write nothing.