I may have a word
That boils behind my eyes.
But to speak the freak aloud
Is to advocate its lies.
I met a soul one time
That knew the price of words,
But learned it much too late.
Is that the voice of birds
I hear behind my eyes?
That word will drive them wild--
But still, to let it out,
Is to leave the air defiled.
I ate the words like honey:
That cures the word that aches.
But to let them up and die
Is foolish, for our sakes.
I long to free my tongue
That stores the words for fear,
But words of empty noise
Are what no one wants to hear.
postscript
I That But Is. Sometimes words are empty and shouldn't be said.