there is a silence in these organs unknown to its kind.
illiterate to what is best,
capable of torture.
it's not as bad as it seems. there are struggles to work when the same words have been encased inside the intestines for so long. some cling longer than others, while the rest is willing to be discharged. an unfortunately vivid description, but it is best to describe what tears at the stomach and gives a shitty outcome.
i speak in tongues. my tongue against memories. some words roll off easier than others. this is for myself, not for you. puzzles for the puzzled. there are no hints, no clues- just verbal stupor.
in other news, silence may be golden, but surprises are priceless. right under your nose or over your head. it is another case of the optimistic or pessimistic glass.
