I still hold words in the reservoir of my thoughts that find themselves unable to seethe out of my teeth that hold those words as prisoners in my mouth. there's so much that needs to be said. Words and voices...millions. I try hard to dismiss the unruly accidents of language in a vague attempt towards a safety that silence provides.
The fear is real...
I might be thrown into the cascading flood and be washed away into the uncertain. I'm shaken and scared but, I've not exhausted my words nor my pain yet. It is still as palpable as my pulse; a constant reminder of my heart's weak keening.
Misery is my love child and i shall nurse it with sorrow and brine. i shall breathe into it the air that the tide of my chest breathes into me. I shall hold it together and i shall let it grow over my tombstone heart like a patina of moss. misery...is my only excuse for madness. i can never let it go .
The fear is real...
I might be thrown into the cascading flood and be washed away into the uncertain. I'm shaken and scared but, I've not exhausted my words nor my pain yet. It is still as palpable as my pulse; a constant reminder of my heart's weak keening.
Misery is my love child and i shall nurse it with sorrow and brine. i shall breathe into it the air that the tide of my chest breathes into me. I shall hold it together and i shall let it grow over my tombstone heart like a patina of moss. misery...is my only excuse for madness. i can never let it go .
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