Word Sickness

Thoughts and words

pound on my mind;

pacing around

they can't find a way out.

My writing has no meaning

anymore;

they are just

jumbled up letters

with nothing special about them.

I'm sick with
forced poems
and thoughts.
My mouth stings with bile
from word-vomiting,
and yet I still stick
my metaphorical fingers
into my throat,
hoping something
that makes sense comes out.

I need to regain my senses
and feelings.
I need to rest
until the sickness of mine
is healed.