backblogged

Sometimes days go by before
The words rise to my gorge and
Demand spilling, you know,
It kind of depends how many
I've had to swallow,
How often I've been around you
And not said Kiss me, please,
And how often I've not yelled into
The phone, LADY LEAVE ME ALONE,
And how often I haven't said hello
To an interesting stranger, and asked
About that curious scar...
Once there's a base of
Swallowed words, they build quickly though,
It seems, rising from deep inside, until,
Here I am, purging
All I've eaten for a week.

And synchronicitously, a stranger
across the Internet is doing the same.