Secrets collide in the brain
building searing pressure
which struggles to escape
the confined space.

The activity heightens during the period of time
before sleep is able to lower the temperature.

Energy is dissipated
in rivulets through tear ducts
in sweat through small pores
in quiet whispers in the dark.

These small discharges aren’t enough.

Secrets smash together,
building momentum,
buffeting against teeth clamped shut,
lips tightly pressed together.

Even as the destructive energy
bursts through the final barrier
with screams of desperation,
the release is not enough.

Only the spoken word
can prevent the final,
destructive explosion
within the confines of the skull.

14 thoughts on “warning

    • Thank you, Alyssa. I don’t really consider myself a poet. I said this in another reply – it seems like the writing decides its own format. I don’t think “I’m going to write a poem.” The words just feel like they need to be written, and it’s a bit of an adventure to see how they end up. Sometimes something will start out as a poem but then it doesn’t flow right. And, of course, the opposite happens as well.


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