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