my core, it bubbles.

the fire is intensifying,

the heat is unsatisfying.

water boils in my chest,

and my mind with its thoughts

throws each reminder,

worry,

and protest

into my chest,

instant ramen spinning in unrest.

the beads are popping,

kicking,

lifting the ramen to detach,

and roam around in the uninvited space,

of my rib cage.

I wish to take off the top

to take the anxiety out

and make it all stop.

 

but I can’t.

 

but I can.

 

I gently pull on each noodle

and lead the string of words

to the tip of my pointer finger;

and they linger.

they buzz and hum,

awaiting their release;

they know it is soon to come.

The words spew out

onto the paper,

computer,

still hot from the burner.

the words steam as my hands fly,

serving out the ramen

to each reader.

seeing and watching

the ramen slurped into each mind,

so that they feel the steam,

and feel the same heat 

that once filled

my bowl

of ramen.