bite down

An appetite built out of grief and static, the jaw hinges open, sharp and dramatic. We swallow the anger, the envy, the fear, chewing the shadows that keep drawing near. A mirrored buffet of the things left unsaid, we feast on the heavy, the heart-sick, the dead. Bite into the panic, sink deep in the pride, a desperate attempt to consume what’s inside. The mouth is a cavern, the teeth are a wall, trying to grind down the weight of it all. But feelings aren't fuel, they don't break apart—they sit in the stomach and heavy the heart.