Epicurean darkness

Oh my GOD!! I am mute, words fail to express me, language I don’t own has to be spoken, can’t tell you what I am feeling, sign language is unknown to me; but my body is wretchedly warped by contorting gestures, attempting to gesticulate what has been dammed within. I have motion but it is that of a Mexican jumping bean, the motion of an egg that is moved by the chick that is about to hatch and break my shell. What will I say to myself, how embarrassing to be speechless when one is a master of at least two dialects and neither will serve now. Epicurean darkness, where my soul has shadows, and my eyes sweat, Let there be a morning bright, Where I AWAKEN to the call of birds and not that of man, Let there be adorning magic for my brains, To warm my armpits with the smell of my dew, To sink into my pillow bed and sink like a pebble on the bottomless…

RC