words have been spilling out
uncontrollably, in a less than
ideal fashion, spilling out
from the hole i carved out
myself, not anyone, but myself

words have been refusing
to form reality from thought,
they are disobedient and
unruly, and they are like children
running across a highway
groaning at peak hour

words have been clinging to
my lips, to the tender thorns
that grace my throat, to the
caverns of my mouth, and they
are suffocating me

words? there are none, not enough
to fill this hole that he carved out
himself, not anyone, but
himself