I feel like something is taken from me,
conversations faltering and settling
split searingly sideways
bit by bit
word by word
there’s an allotted number of words
allowed for the day
a hidden counter ticking down
the tension dragging on
once it’s gone, something will stumble
and falter
and fall
with words pulled out like teeth
on the surface, maybe a misstep or stutter
that simple flaw will rise above while
under the depths, each and every word is
ripped deep from the pit of my stomach
tearing my insides with
grating consonants, lingering vowels
words getting further and farther away,
flooding my eyes with a blink,
a gulp, and a shuddering gasp
SELF-EROSION
Of love, of dust
Pulsing iron, gone to rust
A disintegrating sigh
Flaking away from the root of you
Of love, of rot
Slipping into a sort-of sickness
A desperate, decaying call to the soil
With a gasp, only sediment remains
BE SOFT
we are going to rot
sooner or later
wasted away
by the sun and the living
melt away, be soft