Overwhelming words.

there’s a lot you can do with wordsbut sometimes i forget how to do any.

and sometimes i look at a keyboard

and see so many words that come together

from just some of those letters

and there’s so much to write

that i don’t write at all.

and sometimes i think

i drank deeply from the elixir of life

when i was too young

and when i drank i only drank the words

and i spilled them out in the morning

because the night was too silent to break it.
i wonder if the silence i’ve kept

is as big as the words i’ve written.
i’m not writing to be censored

it’s not like i do that to myself

when the words come rolling 

and i don’t let them out,

when i’m running down the street

but don’t make a sound,

it’s not like i’m afraid to be loud.
i hope you can tell by the heat in my eyes

that my gaze turns steady as soon as i lie.

i hope you know that when i write

and my diction turns from eloquent and quaint

to fucking filthy and raging

that i’m finding myself,

even if that takes years off my life

by looking at my back in a mirror

instead of that look on his face.
and there is no one “his” in my verse,

there are dozens

scores

hundreds

and they all touched my heart-

some with love,

some with malice.

and it’s all i can do

to turn some of them into words

instead of scars in my soul and under my clothes

it takes a whole lot not to bleed.
actions cut deeper than words

but words have the barbed edges

that leave small shards.
there are memories etched in every line of your body.

there always will be.

some will fade from sight

and some will throb every time you look at it.
they say it gets easier, and maybe it does.

but from where i stand,

i think it only gets darker.

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