It’s rumored that the human brain
has such an extensive and colorful
vocabulary,
that we can only really think of
five words
at a time.
Hence the stuttering,
the stumbling,
the choking.
The words better left unsaid
become forgotten
within a fortnight.
Misplaced words on the very
tip of your tongue
swallowed
(bile forcing its way up your raw throat).

I sit alone in the dewy midnight grass
surrounded by nothing but silence.
(Not that I mind,
solitude is not unknown to me).
The clouds roll in
and I’m reminded of a time where
I used to worship the speckled
sky.
But that was far too long ago,
and times have changed.

For once,
I don’t care about the stars.
They’re all dead anyways.