DEADNAME

By Kaz-Michael

The name on his tongue is like lead. Heavier.

Sticky as tar and choking him with its stench,

Every breath he heaves is crackling with the pain

Of holding it in.

The name is his own, summoned from his

Stomach, acid coated and bitter as bile.

No one warned him that a stomach ache

Could lead to this.

When the name wheezes out, coated in ooze,

It is a scream. The name splits at the seams,

Becomes merely a cry, becomes merely

Animal.

The scream still isn’t loud enough. It splinters,

Reforms, tangled like shoe-string, each

Twisting, slimy, oesophageal syllable corrupted.

Returned

Like Jonah to an unfamiliar land, the name

Becomes a whisper, finger bones becoming

Cunning, tongue learning the art of

Lies.

Well-versed in the acidity of holy water,

He learns to hold in his breath, let the

Un-purified stew, let his name grow fowl

And unapologetic.

He is sick with it, the weight of his name

Held firm within his body. This will not last

For long, he tells himself, skin turning green,

Dying bit by bit.

#darkpoetsclub