the veins along my racing heart are rivers.
their waterfalls cascade into my stomach,
and hit the bottom with an empty thump.
waves run along the inner linings of my lungs,
crashing into every breath.
no wonder I can never seem to take in enough air.
the bottom of my throat is consumed by a whirlpool.
it steals all of my words,
and tucks them deep into the crevices of my bones.
the pressure of all these words under my skin builds up,
so that every so often a flood hits my brain,
and all my thoughts are scrambled up and confused.
some days I wish for a tsunami
to wash away all of these helpless scars.