It’s about that time when I get sick
And the sickness is flavored and chased with
All the words that I keep in the back of my throat
Deep down to the pits of the stomach
Refusing to let it enter and blend with air

When once those words were released to be digested
Your open mouth of ears scrambling for every scrap
Fighting and yearning to have your fill
Your gluttony for a 4-letter word shown through your pores
The importance of word over feeling

My aching mouth is bubbling full of activity
Behind closed lips and clenched teeth
Direct your attention to these windows below the brow
For that is where the papers are held
Translations courtesy of the kardia

So it drains and molds and the stench seeps out
Strangles and latches onto my esophagus
Dancing and grinning puns and catchy lines
That I could have used instead to woo and sweep you
Elaborate adjectives to keep you from flight

A fool to think only the mouth creates meaning
Woven with vines along the edges of expression
The portholes of the heart within your sight
Dust has settled upon them, but has not kept you
From taking a look inside

02/27/2009

Posted on 02/27/2009
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