Voicemail Poems

I finally want to talk about it has taken me a decade more than most and all my wisdom teeth have fallen victim by now there is a draft buried beneath this you will never know of a pleasure of released dioxide and simile I don’t write because the block asks I do this out of an empathy for myself, a backlog of tears and this body knows that the deal is ending soon it just thinks it can wait out having to pay the delivery fee and this is just like me to go on and on nodding to the tune of ephemera in my head without letting go I can count on one hand how many fingers I have lifted to speak to my grandmother or times I even perused a bible yet I