Spit it Out
we don't walk
on eggshells;
we eat them
our ingested truths
broken inside of us
jagged, unattended;
they fester in folds
buried, ignored
all that negligence
nourishment for
the eventual
rampant, piercing
infection of a being
that refuses
to forget or accept
surfacing more excruciating
than the swallowing
