I’m getting bad at what I do

I’m getting words stuck behind my teeth like pills in peanut butter,

words stuck between my teeth like apple pulp.

I’m getting backlashes of food poisoning,

how my whole body became a devil entity and I swooned  in and of desperate consciousness,

how walking was the hardest.

Like how acid trips give you acid slips

Like how you never wanted me,

like how I’ll stop caring eventually.

But now I’m choking on my words and there’s no excuse

And I used to write poems about self abuse

that I never gave myself.

But for now, words fumble

like I did for you.