burn your dictionaries.
slice up your thesaurus. because the very moment that words can be found, they falter, fail. as your explanations, your justifications begin their voyage, ready to spill from your mouth to whichever poor soul you’ve enlisted as a confident, they begin to wound, betraying their puppeteer. The harsh angles of the Hs (Hurt? Hatred? Help?) begin to scrape against your throat, and the slants of the As (Alone? Apathetic? Apologetic?) get lodged between the curves of the Bs (Breathless? Bruised? Bloodied?) And eventually they’re all stuck, jammed into your throat without means of escape. It sounds too poetic to be true: I cannot scream. You cannot hear me. Thrust into a goddamn horror movie, where everything’s scary because everything’s real. Silence.
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