Every moment a phrase goes

unspoken, it grows heavier 

on my tongue, attaches 

itself to pulse and impulse:

the heavy weight 

of a grandfather 

clock, dragging 

time onwards

and me with it—or

a mantra deprived of spiritual 

significance and devoid

of peace. There is only 

pressurepressurepressure,

repetition repetition

until the dam

of lips is broken and

dialogue is drowned.