A month of poems.
Fantastic, I thought;
I have so many swirling, bubbling streams 
    conscious and unconscious
looking for an outlet.
A torrent of passion and frustration and heartache at the source
somehow as reality crested the waterfall edge
I dried up.

I search for the words
to carry all of this somewhere beyond me
rather than slowly drowning every cell of my body
in the rising tide
of my decision.