Stuck

It’s hard to speak when speaking waits
With tangled hearts and inky space
A thought, a-clutter, several mustered
So well delivered, they dam the river
Your words cannot spill out. 

They, sickly, sow fever and doubt. 
And the guttural sounds clot the river-route
So the wailing cannot break free. 
and the poison stirs
faster in me. 

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