Aphasia

I can no longer trust myself.

There are words forming that I do not know yet.

But I keep speaking.

Shut up.

Keep running,
kept running away from this, knocking into walls, compressing lungs into throat.
Stop talking stop talking.

I can no longer trust you.

Keep running until the stars in the sky fade over the horizon,
until the sun blocks out everything else I could ever see with my eyes.

I do not want to harm you.

Let me hurt you by telling you what it was that made me.

Keep running until the wood thrush caws,
until the chorus frogs stop rasping in their pond.

My legs are stilts, melting into the marsh's floodplain.
Desire and fear are the blackgrass I keep getting stuck in.