e r o d e
the silent places | poetic streams of consciousness
exhume it from the depths
disinter the coffin it’s buried in
splay the bones into a verse
call it as it is
unfurl the sails bound to it
tack the bow into the wind
batten down the hatches
capsized in my own skin
tighten chains around it
heave it overboard
throw a line into the void
fish it up to shore
brine and wrap it nicely
tie a knot from end to end
tuck it neatly in the hull
pound until it’s gone again
‘till the earthquakes of my soul
shake the pieces back to shape
bulging detritus take their form
longing to escape
blast it with the hatchet
cleave it till it cracks
hacking at the knots
slash until it busts in half
kerosene the ring
flick a match into the pit
light it up as signals rise
watch the splinters spit
consuming blistered bits
suck the ashes in
scorching words before they exit
vaporized as they begin
smoke spirals smoldering lungs
converged behind protective panes
choking out divulgence
engulfing words that burn in vain
until smothered whispers echo
decibels loud enough to break
shattering a seal long past fractured
dismembering silence in its wake
could i hemorrhage
out in words
can i finally put this down
or will i cauterize my voice
until
i
slowly
drown
About the Creator
Kristen Balyeat
Words fly to me on the wind, bump me as I'm strolling the city, splash me in the face while I rest by the river, and shake me awake in the middle of the night—I’m humbly one of the vessels they use to come to life.
Also, i love you:)
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