like not knowing what
you're even saying anymore
like being completely caught
in the frame of some narrow door
and ceasing to talk
like when the cup is full
of poison, of life poisonous
and you knock it over
and forget the spill
and it runs over anew and pure
like when be-ing is a chinese finger trap
or a soaked rag
and you pull to break the bond
and you wring to drink, to be drunk
but you forget how to move your arms
like when your stomach is a maze
of shifting pains and aches and
you cut the thread leading out
and you wait until night to move an inch
you feel the texture of the walls
you marvel at the cold
and you wonder: not how to get out; you wonder
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