I'm always inclined to curse at an idea.

These hands haven't seen the light of day in ages-  
I can read my past between the crevices.

Too bad it's in a language of anguish-
one I can't seem to decipher.

Will someone teach me?

I am stuck throwing profanities at entities
that will never be able to reply.
Guess I am selfish that way.

and my mind likes to remind of this
when my chest starts spilling out
this morse code that I am not capable
of translating.

it pulses SOS
the only cadence
I have been able to understand.

the rest is all just blur,
just foggy memory.

I am cursing at my brain's
inability to show me.

What is the language of anguish?
Can I feel it in the pulsating of my chest?
Does it whisper to me at night before bed?
Is that the reason I can't sleep?

I have been learning how to understand this trauma
through the stomach pains and pale face.

I am native to it,
born here inside of this suffering.

But still cannot seem to
distinguish the meaning.

How do you find a lost memory
when it is tucked neatly
in the lining of your suffering?

When can I put this to rest?
Will I find meaning here
inside the convalescence?
Or will it all be for nothing?