almost midnight

almost midnight.

the time the clocks strike twelve

and all the words rush to my fingertips

at once.

they travel through my blood

racing through my veins.

as the world teeters on the edge

of the ringing bells,

swaying from one day to the next,

I choke on the words.

they fall out of my mouth and I struggle to breathe

with their spiky letters at the back of my throat,

swallowing them, I send them to my

fingers instead.

there’s only so much you can do with words, even they have their limits.

with a full stop the clock strikes twelve.