* * *
the sun hides me inside
cover my eyes, the words never play in my will, they just stick in my tongue, metal on teeth, it's annoying and keep growing til i bite down and it's bitter. i've always plucked the wrong words from the ill trees. from poisoned apples, rotten vines and hard pears to green fruits that didn't have the time to mature yet. ill never learn how to spill words out of my mouth. it's like words themselves are scared to come out to seek the day. teeth in gums, they'll stay passengers. and i'll keep swallowing, swallowing, swallowing.
until they show
night is old, i don't understand why but there's freedom in the dark, that creates a language of its own. maybe it's his illusion of a distant land or a home that brings me closer. he likes to undertake another way to embellish his trap.
don't you know? there's a strange thing about the stillness of the hours we allow to be tricked by the darkness into thinking it will keep our secrets. a frightening vulnerability to allow us to let them unfold. we feel brave enough to say things we'd never say in the light.
at that time, i forget the world is still open, it isn't a window you can shut or ears you can close
we all forgot that the sun will soon rise
