There is a flood
that rises abruptly
from the back of my tongue
that twinge
that hangs over the edge
of that bottomless ravine
that lay on the cuspe
of scabbed over gape
that never seems to heal.
It rises and plummets in my chest
to the lump in my throat
where the air lay vapor-locked
dry and thick
can’t be swallowed down 
no matter how many times
you try
but if you can just hold your breath
long enough to greet the black
You’ll gladly welcome it, 
Just fade right into it.