Capsized

It tears through every tendon and strains every vain as the words are ripped out of me and spit onto someone elses paper. i feel the pressure from the waning sun as it turns melancholy to dust. i can feel the choke in the back of my throat, where it holds back the shards of glass broken inside me; because those were my words, written on a two way mirror.

And those words to you are the specks of dust i cough up and you manage to catch between the cracks of your skin; and they seep through into your veins and are embed in your soul and they're yours. Then with your long twisted fingers you poke at my earth and my sun and you take the parts you want and lay them out to the world. They're the ones that speak heavy truth to my eyes, and they eat at my soul, and i work for each pounding syllable and you don't, they're just words to you.