| 6. |
| I pinch my mouth shut holding in the moisture that flows over my teeth. The liquid below my skin that moves with every expression. I feel my face as a mask over flesh that shivers in waves, oceanic with mysterious creatures in the deep. Surfacing.
Sometimes I close my lips over a buildup of words bubbling up out of me. Only the barest touch of the edges of my lips is possible with the immense internal pressure. I have no built-in airlocks or other venting possibilities and I fear that soon they will start escaping through my nostrils and tearducts. |
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