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there's a build-up of words waiting just behind my lips, but every time i open my mouth they recede down the back of my throat, settling down in my gut where my stomach twists and turns with their weight.

my hands are tense, frozen: ready to channel my unspoken words onto paper, but they don't and they can't

i have this habit of storing up my words, my thoughts so long that i can no longer recognize them.  i keep them deep inside until i have no strength to bring them forth.  i become like a child who is learning to speak.  

i sit, i wait, i sigh, but i am immobile. 

so i stare at this leering screen and wish for what i don't seem to have.