Journaling

Flip through my anthology

Skim and Scan my Spine

How does it not betray to you

Bequeath to you

What it beseeches from me

Every weakness

Every loss

Every buckled knee

I fall upon

With every puff I expel

The world stands still

To my wails

How is it that mere syllables

Can console me

They consume me

They can control me

They define me

Yet they destroy me

They separate me from

What I am

And What I will be

I feel as though

I am ascending

But I am only descending

To these two syllables

They are incomprehensible

yet so indispensable

But I digress

How I succumb to them

How I let them decompose me

A composition of internal dialogue