mutiny

I can feel the tense recoil
in my shoulders.

these abstract devices
have been roused
to regicide:
they are rioting
in the pathways of my lungs,
erecting makeshift barricades
out of their fossil-
tissue.

I am at a loss for words;
I have too many tongues
to be able to speak,
too many teeth.

in these blockaded passageways,
sentiments rot like
corpses.