A Cry in the Dark
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
verbal constipation....
They are there. Building up behind my teeth. Sticking in my throat. Congregating. Collecting. Creating an impaction that makes it difficult to breathe. The anger wants to lash out, performing violence on inanimate objects in an attempt of appeasement. Slamming doors, banging books, nothing soothes the animal that is caged.
The pressure is building, forcing the words past my lips struggling to hold them in. My mind panics, fearing that the onrush cannot be stopped. Certain things, once said, cannot be taken back. Those syllables are hidden in the now mobile mass. Will the sphincter be able to contain them? Or will it be ruptured as they force an exodus?
If you can’t tell, this is the nice way of writing that there’s a lot of “shit” I’d like to be able to say. Certain things are better left unsaid, but the odor of the stuff being shoveled at me is getting a little rank.
Posted by WistfulWench ::
3:16 AM ::
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