<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530749" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Choking</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somewhere<br> Between<br> My throat and my heart, <br>I choke<br> On my voice.<br> I gag, <br>Coughing curdles of coagulated blood, <br>Dry tears dripping from my dehydrated eyes, <br>Heaving ev'rything I try to digest, <br>Spitting words—<br> Hoping they learn how to speak.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I wipe the drool from my face.<br> So sick, I spittle my word vomit<br> After gorging and gorging on a linguistic feast—<br> Tossed word salad.<br> I just want<br> To speak.<br> I just want<br> To mean something<br> To somebody.<br> I just want<br> To say so much more than I can say by myself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I often say nothing instead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps this is why<br> The words clog my throat, <br> Piling on top of each other<br> Like bricks building<br> Some sort of bizarre<br> Monument that measures<br> The weight of my silence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sometimes<br>I'm afraid that<br> I<br> say<br> nothing at<br>all - even when<br> I find<br> it interesting<br> to spill<br> a thought<br> frommyhead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Sometim es<br>I need to<br> Shut up<br> And<br> Swallow my pity's pride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> My sour saliva<br> Trickles<br> Downstream, <br> A spew of chiaroscuro<br> Covering my mouth.<br> My tongue is tied<br> In the knotted shadows<br> That veil over the visages I see.<br> Still, the burning sensation<br> Rushes up my chest<br> And through my nose—<br> The convulsions shaking me, <br> Tearing me<br> Apart like a perforated edge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I'm gasping for some pocket<br> Of oxidized air, <br> Clutching at my<br> Self-strangled neck— My head is<br> Lacerated from</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> My body<br> As it struggles<br> To grasp the last, precious<br> Piece of life left<br> In my lungs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">After all, <br>What<br> is<br> life<br> to me, <br> but<br> Inhaling and exhaling <br> all the things<br>I'd like to<br> say?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Tim+Stensloff">Tim Stensloff</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530749" data-title="The Choking de Tim Stensloff" data-description="Somewhere Between My throat and my heart, I choke On my voice. I gag, Coughing curdles of coagulated blood, Dry tears dripping from my dehydrated eyes, Heaving ev'rything I try to digest, Spitting words— Hoping they lea..."></div> </div> </div>

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