The words unsaid are wraiths, unspread
To ears they should collect in.
Unspoken speech, they do not reach
The ears they should reside in.
Instead they're bred within my head
To ripen forth and spoil.
Each carapace returns to this
The over-barren soil
And yet, alas, the words that pass
Take root and choke the landscape
From world around they do resound
In never ending earthquake