somniare.

sometimes, my head explodes

in my silence December 22, 2007

Filed under: almost poetic — somniare @ 8:49 am

I wake next to the unsaid words,
like my favorite aborted children
preserved lovingly in formaldehyde.
Their tiny jars tucked nicely beside me,
I rouse them with a kiss.
Good morning my darlings
let me make you some breakfast.
I gather them closely to my chest,
careful not to let one slip.
Downstairs now, I set them up respectful of their natures-
“I’m” and “not” huddle fearfully in the corner,
“just” and “like” sit quietly beside each other,
while “everyone” and “else” kick each other under the table.
My coffee, black with a touch of sweet,
lacks the bitterness I crave.
I pluck “not” from its siblings
and pour it into my cup.
The words and I finish breakfast
in our accustomed silence.
As the caffeine and toxins bubble in my veins
my children float anxiously.

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One Response to “in my silence”

  1. Jon Says:

    I really like: I pluck “not” from its siblings
    and pour it into my cup.


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