Words I Could Never Say

Words I Could Never Say


Every day I’m plagued by the words I could never say. I constantly feel them clawing at the inside of my throat, scratching and buzzing like locusts fighting to see the light.

My belly which once quivered and quaked with the mirth of childish laughter and life now sits stagnant, infected by the stillness of the dead. The waters of youthful love turned bloody and filled with the carcasses of longings that lay repressed; feelings never expressed; issues never addressed.

From the crimson waters of my belly rush vengeful curses like starving frogs to feed on the frightful buzzing of my insecurities that swarm like gnats; inky black gnats trapped between my ribs and caged behind my teeth. The ones that survive live to swarm another day before their bodies fall like poisoned rain and kill the grass that lines the spirit. The spirit sustaining hope which is the livestock to my soul.

I lay awake at night blocking out the many voices in my head that scream like mothers mourning first born sons among the dead; clutching lifeless heads to heaving chests. My aching soul covered in festering boils caused by the branding irons of the words I never said.


Tell out my soul ye servants of the Lord in whom I doubt; the shapeshifting menace that breathed air into my nostrils and sucked the breath that fans the flames of my convictions from my lips.

Perhaps I was molded to know the cold kiss of cowardice, raised from clay to value thoughts of others and fear of what the world may say.

A capitalist nigger pieced together from my burning childhood boldness to be a perfect soldier, lips sealed together by a materialistic world’s coldness.

I meditate within myself the reasons behind my mouth that moves like the swinging door of an abandoned windswept house.

I look in the mirror and find the only reason that makes sense is the one my pride would grind my bones to dust to hide…I’m a coward.


I’m a coward who’d rather have his tongue cling to the roof of his mouth than say I love you, even though I choke on the fumes of my burning desire for you and drown in endless expressions of adoration of you. My skin tightens and breath catches counting the seconds to the next reprieve that is your touch.

I hide away my feelings for fear of looking weak all though the fear of looking weak is the new weakness of the week, cause my fears are a mirage; the barren wasteland that is my life’s joke shifting shape, weight and distance, difficult to see but their presence always felt.

So I write the words. Fight these verbs. Wrench open these scars till they become eyes brave enough to cry my tears or mouths bold enough to curse my fears.

I grapple the spirits that roam the deep of my mind as they watch me sleep. I break the shackles of being with verse and put these fears inside a hearse to leave space inside my heart to fill with joy till fit to burst.

I’ll cry, ‘freedom, this is my pain’ and never fear these feelings again as my spirit sings in the rain, ‘I am the cosmic song of hope, creation hums my refrain’.

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