Bloody Words

I woke up this morning needing to write. I was frantic almost, in my twin sized bed with the sun shining on my face, gently nudging me awake. Gently nudging me awake but I woke up with a start. Where is the keyboard. A pen. Paper. Need to write. Words gushing out of the wound that is my mouth in crimson squirts and splooshes. So I packed my lips with gauze and felt them run down my throat, into my stomach, back up, searching. For an outlet. I must have holes in my fingers because the words are splooshing out. Making puddles on keyboards and I'm not quite sure what to do about it, other than write. My mouth is dry and it's difficult to breathe will all this gauze. I'll take it out before I leave home. Bind up my fingers and find a stranger to bleed on. I'll call him a friend.