the tree in my throat started budding, i coughed up flowers

shaped like ******* and my doctor

called the government

now they want to sever my neck, count my rings and guess my age

i am afraid the sap will start seeping and i am afraid

that you are committed to the idea of putting your ear against the hole

the government is calling again, this time of an alien kind

they are also curious

i offered them my toes, but only soil drained from my shoes when removed

i guess you’re going to have to sweep more often

dirt, petals, and alien footprints

I see a boy underneath the bin
He prays desperately to a deaf god
Looming over I can smell his despair
Rocking back and forth in holy existence
Your prayer won’t save you now little duckling
Say I to the rat
But on he chants, on and on to gods and clouds and demons
He names them all, one by one endlessly chanting his desperate canon
Where are your gods now?
Do they serve you a merciful end?
I ask as I slash his throat.

Why didn't they teach us how to get rid of that lump in the back of our throat at school.

Love leads to pain.
There is no way around it.
People change or leave or die...
...and your soul’s throat feels slit.















But even if love were a prison
With this lethal injection as my destiny
Should someone discover how to make it...
...I would still refuse the key.

Bodies lying here and there,
torn clothes everywhere,
Some little girls crying near the bay,
Some little girls hiding behind the hay,
It's the month of May,and
I still remember this day,
When I refused to use my stength,
Gave up, laid down,
Could no longer fly high,
I was forced to drop on the ground,
Just because some hands pulled me down,
And swept me across the room
To fulfill their needs,
When I come to think about it now,
I should have stomped their throats,
When I had the chance,
I should have fought,maybe
I could have saved,
Others and every one,
If only I roared.

My throat closes

Every single time

When I want to speak or let myself be heard, I close

I let others speak for me. In whistling tunes I found through the Tube or stories as told by those who live them

I find it is not my time to speak.

For only when I am utmost alone can I even utter a single sigh and still it displeases me of its occurrence

Perhaps voiceless to allow others the space they might need to be themselves. So why am I upset of it

Meek and meager
Never there when you need her
Your silence is louder than a train wreck.

i picture red ugly drunks, bitter
while delirious women dance around them
Together, lathered in music,
rock symphonies trudge over their pounding headaches

your sword is pointed at my neck,
so go ahead and slit my throat.
you'll see no fear in my eyes when you do.
the tip of my dagger already did its job,
and soon, the poison will **** you too.