I open my mouth
wrestling the words off my tongue
like they are passengers
that refuse to walk their plank.
and when I finally think I’ve pushed
them
off
into the storming sea should they go—
dissolved by the darkness of the waves
and the crescendo of the foam.
but nothing dares stumble out in the land between my lips,
instead the passengers find themselves
to the vacuum of hopelessness
that awaits it.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
I open my mouth
wrestling the words off my tongue
like they are passengers
that refuse to walk their plank.
and when I finally think I’ve pushed
them
off
into the storming sea should they go—
dissolved by the darkness of the waves
and the crescendo of the foam.
but nothing dares stumble out in the land between my lips,
instead the passengers find themselves
to the vacuum of hopelessness
that awaits it.
Composed 1.9.19
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