the inevitable

*fifty-four

okay last one
i've become overwhelmed
by the gnawing in my stomach
i can't articulate the words, the sentences
to frame my ever changing world so perfectly
maybe it's okay to close my eyes
my thoughts flashing through my psyche
i've yet to remember the sensation
of the overflow that passes my lips
that stains my fingers
i don't like this anymore
i've been here before
my metallic tongue grazes my teeth
what i mean climbs up my throat and perches at the back of my mouth
i am unable to formulate
the fog is too thick
where am i
how did i get here
farthest from what i've constructed?
please take me back.
the trade of overflowing words and bewildering uncertainty
is not something i wish to reminisce
should i return in blissful ignorance?
or look into the door i'm already prying open.
i'm tired of speaking cryptically
for my fingers speak faster than my head
i unearth the clues and ponder their meaning.
i don't recognize you anymore.