crows flock.

i have missed writing but i've found myself at a loss for words lately at a lot of things.

There is nothing I can say that can be said in a space where crows flock, pecking at my skin, where there are words there is reason to be mocked and so, I bind my hands against my lips preventing them from the very thing they were created to do, to speak, to spill, to yell, to scream words into open thin air causing riffles of oxygen in our lungs creating impact yet to be heard. The silent ones tend to be the less heard but the most aware. and these facts I dwell on will be the death of me the way I will carry them to my deathbed, the way I will never, and seem to never, be able to voice my honest truths without crows picking at my skin, picking at my lips.