Nervous Cough Poem by Rhys Owens

I've formed a nervous cough
From some neurotic things that float inside,
And I've been digging through my unconscious
Trying to make it stop.

There's a nervous thought stuck in my throat
I've no hope of clearing out.
Even if I dry heave until I gag
I'm only stirring dead fish in an invisible pond.

I think it's a puddle with nothing in it,
That it's the hope itself being gone.
Now that it can't even see its reflection,
It feels it isn't there, never was.

While there might be an infinite world beneath the surface,
Without a hope in Hell, what does it matter?
Someone's invisible fish and talking wounds:
A whole sea life beyond my persona.

If I can't talk about it, I'm just going to cough.
Repress the fantastical visions until they're dead.
Dissolving the rest in island silences
Divorced from an ocean dense with words.