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my tongue is too big for my mouth,
I suffer from lock-jaw.
the words have been nurtured,
like seeds, matured and ready for harvesting-
they've rooted themselves in my stomach,
now they've outgrown their pot.
they flutter around inside of me
searching for more space-
driving upwards, tickling my throat
making me uneasy with nerves
too numb to vomit.
I swallow and force them back down into damnation-
ariel view from my eyes scope,
I am so far up here and these meanings
are so far beneath me now.
my heart has wintered some, grown weary and destitute.
do you love me anyway?
in-spite of my dark sighs? oh God!
how I love it when you cry:
the sky opens up, a looking glass reveals
the hours of our death sentence-
these our the nights of our lives.
you are my only redeeming quality,
that I need you and I lack nothing-
that I love you, though I am lightless.
all these knotted words, so sick to go unsung,
so diseased to be unspoken,
lay limp and on the verge-
just as i.
Amberlee Carter
Read poems about / on: sick, dark, sky, death, god, love
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