Sometimes when I speak
The words don't come out,
And the sounds just sort of echo in my head for a moment
Before I forget them.

Then I try and sleep, because being awake is no longer interesting.
Constant anxiety tends to make one numb.

Later on
All the things I forgot to feel
Rush in like a flood
And I go to sleep
Because the water filled my lungs.

If I wake up
And there's fog outside my window
It's no surprise at all.
Because it's hard to make out anything in fog
And if I speak
I don't know who's going to hear it.