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Jan 2013
There is blood in my mouth,
liquid steel from sharp words that are cut from my teeth and flicked out of my mouth by my tongue.
My throat is literally drowning from words my brain produces
but cannot stop from throwing forth;
my mind producing thoughts like a steam train on a new track.
Clickety, Clack. Clickety, Clack.
And i thought different,
of you.
But my teeth are bruised from speaking to you,
my air pushing from my lungs, to give me breath to speak to you,
is death and rotten, it is done with you,
and, me.
There is blood in my mouth,
it dries around my lips and cracks open
everytime i breathe.
Sometimes i wish you had just hit me with your words,
that the cartilage under my nose had cracked
from the force your words threw at me,
that there was a full outward combustion
and it ran down my face,
dripped off my chin and left the building.
My brain keeps thowing these punches,
left, right, under, left, dive, hook, run,
and i am losing this battle, that began a fight,
that i never began
that i never wanted in the first place,
but there is now blood in my mouth
And i need to mop this **** up
and start again...
Rachael Stainthorpe
Written by
Rachael Stainthorpe  Huddersfield
(Huddersfield)   
587
   Bill Hensley
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