I am once again silenced at the precipice of speech
On the verge of verbal expression I falter
Stutter, mutter, fumble, and tumble over words
As if they were more than just words
And really something physical
Something I could touch

Eyes converge on my lips like a lens
Focusing the rays of indignation so it burns
Charring and shrivelling, those black paper butterflies
Flutter in my chest and tear up my insides
Moving towards my head, stop my lungs
I can't breathe
My heart is a flooded
Watergate, a dam rushing
A machine out of control
I think
I think
I think
I think
I'm on the brink
My mind is a man
In danger
His out of breath lungs breathing acid
Pursued by a hooded knife
In the lonely dark he runs
But reaches a dead end
No way out
No where to run
He spots the shape, the only escape
A silhouette in his eye
He wishes he would collapse, so he could just
Relax
Retire with a sigh
The burden off his mind
Everything gone
He would finally die