PLAGUE

SO THERE IS THIS
POINT YOU ARE TRYING
TO MAKE
AND IT'S ON THE
TIP OF YOUR TONGUE.
THIS POINT THAT WILL
FINISH AN ARGUEMENT.
YOU'RE WAITING YOUR
TURN FOR THE RIGHT MOMENT.
IT'S GOTTA BE THE RIGHT MOMENT.
IT HAS TO BE.
THIS MOMENT HAS SURPRISED YOU
AND PUSHED ITSELF
OUT OF THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH,
MAKING YOU NAUSEAS ALMOST.
BUT,
WHEN IT ARRIVES
IN THE PRESENT
IT ONLY FLOWS ALONG
WITH THE REST OF
WHAT'S JUST BEEN SAID.
NO ONE REALIZES THAT
YOUR IDENTITY ABOUT
SOMETHING
HAS BEEN REVEALED
AND PUT OUT
IN THE OPEN.
TOO MANY THINGS
ARE OUT IN THE OPEN AND
ARE TOO EASILY
ACCESSIBLE
THAT YOUR GUT FEELING
HAS TURNED INTO
THROW UP.
WASHED AWAY
ON A CRACKED STREET
UP A HILL TO NOWHERE.