writer’s block

i have poems lodged in my throat
like a lump of tears or a stubborn ball of pap
corks in my bottles of unthinkables
i taste words that have gone bad
matadors waving with reckless abandon
i choke when i try to yell in my sleep
dreaming of white coats and white dresses
when i smile my teeth are stained bright red
from these battlegrounds:
anxiety – 1
me – 0

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