My stomach’s wounded howl,
swirling gravity. A black hole
Agitated, mistranslated,
orbiting pole to pole.
My existential nightmares
carving tenderloin voids in my soul.
Anxiety insatiable,
it demands to be fed.
Starving all other signals,
mind reduced to single thread.
Blood pressure rising
like fresh, baking bread
I talk with my mouth full
And choke on the words.
Re-chewing conversations
locked with compromised passwords.
Empty calorie confessions
Slink away like slick cowards.
Swallowing dead air
my own words, all I’m digesting
Deep fried my feelings
with a side of ranch dressing.
Anything worth doing
is worth, second guessing.
Reopening old scars
I can’t shake this routine.
Emotions percolate
then buzz away like caffeine.
Excuses run, gravy thick,
over mounds of poutine.
Thoughts start to ferment,
Salted away like kimchi.
Sweet distraction of choices,
their whispered promise that I’m free.
But while I consume them,
they devour me.
– Bite Your Tongue © Mike Chernoff 12/28/2022
From the collection Steer into the Skid
Chernoff Writing.com 