Don't Talk. Just Write.

There are periods where I can feel my hands pulse and perspire

Where waves of epiphany flood my mind and make me malliable 

Where my mouth tastes only like toxicity

Where my mind is easily molded

Words well up inside me 

They

Make me nauseous for noise and non-negotiable arguments 

I lament 

Talking takes me somwhere else

It always tastes like bile in the back of my throat

Breaking me down into babbling ballistic bitch

I practically itch for the opportunity to get my point across 

I toss letters into the air like I'm aiming for authenticity 

But writing feels like wellness

Writing is the whisperer that reminds me:

"Everything is not a battle but you will need these words for ammunition when one comes." 

So I collect my chaos and put it onto paper

I push the panic into another plane of existence

And extract all of the extra from out of me

Words no longer seem like my enemy

They know that my bones are not for breaking

So I know that they may never hurt me 

I can now craft and cope with the chaos that resides within my mind