i stitch
each night
with coarse
black thread
my mouth shut
in sloppy x’s
before going
to lay in bed
the muffled
screams make
a lovely
to staring up
at the ceiling
for hours and
hours on end

my fingers are
cramped from
threading the
hooked needle
my lips ache
from the many
holes leaking
infected blood
as the thread
pulls tight as
i repeatedly
yell knowing my
words go unheard
so i stitch and
stitch piercing
new wounds and
pulling the x’s
tighter every
single night

i have nothing
to say
just shitty poetry
and muffled
shouts swallowed
by the ceiling
i tried
a few times but
i think i speak
a different language
another byproduct
of babel
cursed to roam
this world alone

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