On the Verge of

My eyes are incapable, nothing but the borders, the urge to destroy those I never asked to. Speak my deepest, speak. There is nothing left to keep. My ears are ignoring. Words walk away from me. Dancing leaves, like signs in the sky, guide me to find my way back. Where did I ever belong? Clouds of memory, thundering. The hailstones engrave my skin. Speak my skin, speak. Where should I go? The valleys so deep, the wrinkles of the mountains hiding the traces of light, curving like a fish. Speak my tongue, speak. The sound of nonsense, fill my space, cover my face, quickly infiltrating my brain, I beseech. Speak. You should speak. Once arrived at home, I will—