The words caked in my mouth,
cementing themselves between my teeth
and blocking the motions of my tongue.
The pressure of the forced silence builds
with the steady rhythm of my
I have a mouth full of needles.
My heart moves like a beatbox,
keeping pace with the flutter of your eyes
and the waves of nausea.
The blockage moves to my throat
and there's nothing but the
The blood on my hands is yours, is mine.