unsaid words are fighting their way up my throat while my tongue repeatedly pushes them down. they are clogging my lungs, choking my breath, making it impossible to breathe.
unshed tears break through the dams built to contain them, poisoning the blood coursing through my too tight veins.
sentences race against the backspace button, determined to make their mark on the pixels flying through the world.
i'll die if they do, i'll die if they don't. but jack told his story anyways... maybe i should too.
maybe secrets really are better when theyre shouted from the rooftops. maybe the truth will set me free. maybe cliches exist for a reason.
perhaps ill feel relief if i push away the elephant that enjoys sitting on my chest. perhaps i have forgotten how to live without it there. perhaps i'm not willing to take that risk.
i'll die if i do, i'll die if i don't.
language may hold the key to liberation, but in order to hold anything it must have hands suitable for strangling, and my body bears witness to invisible bruises.
ive dissected the sentences, the words, until all thats left are mismatched letters that make less sense than a penny. but their edges are sharp, and i could never stand the pain of a paper cut.
***
yeah... i dont know. i blame not getting enough sleep for the nonsense that has been filling my head lately. i blame joe's brainwashing for me writing this into google's cloud instead of my documents. i blame you for subjecting yourself to reading this in the first place. i don't know what to blame for the stinky cheese man's reference up there. if you didnt get it, here's a hint:
i havent read the story in a zillion years, so dont know why it was still in my brain taking up space that should have been used for things like javascript coding.
i've also gotten re-into jack johnson. but only when i write.
I like this. a lot.
ReplyDeletewhy thank you. :)
ReplyDelete