Requires me to first open my mouth.


What if I didn’t ask for it?

No, I didn’t open my mouth.


If nothing comes in,

Nothing should come out?


But something got

in a fraying soul

Transforming it into

expansive aches,

cold-doused in more words.



Just words, they could be something,

But, they’re just marks on a page.

No matter how they are scratched in,

They are fleeting still.


Crumple it up, those words.

Breeding aches, they

find a way in,

But never get out.

Get out, get out.


Somehow, I didn’t swallow

but yet evidence shows,

my soul is clamped shut.

The only space left got

Swallowed up.


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