i have not written
for days,
and it makes me feel
cursed!
Sick!


my head tilting,
dizzy with vertigos,
a nauseous  stirring
with words churning -
trapped.
what was that?
a sound?
a gasp, a sigh or a scream
or the desperation to bleed
words -
unless they break free from this prison
in my head.


the air lacks -
maybe some oxygen,
maybe some space,
despite deep breaths,
a familiar feeling -
the air being swallowed whole
before it can settle,
or submerging my face into water
bursting bubbles to fracture the silence.
maybe they are taking it all
maybe the 'words' are still wondering
if it's worth leaving,
if it's worth  escaping
a place that feeds them




how much do they need
to spark a flame -
burn
a wildfire in my head,
to set themselves free,
or carve open a wound
to spills through veins,
and smudging their escape
on parched plain  papers.



how many more days?
scraping tally marks on cemented walls
impatiently relying on these slow
screeches between seconds.