i’ve got it in me yet - the minute hand patting backs and pushing its back up against my fatal idiom will get the best of a tightened tongue - bleeding gums all stuck like rusty tools that let themselves moisten under pressure - the stressful heat of a weekday with my steady tooth weighing the world’s weight in gold down enough to clamp a jaw shut - taut against the tile, hardwood floor (and so much more) foreshadowing a silence of frigid air to breathe. the seasons.
“whats worse?” remarks have whimpered there way out a throat - a thought deep enough to depress and say “ahhh” soreness. hoarseness. inability to express ones over active cords - like you they will shred. like you, i will dread the impending denotation of every uttered sound scaled language and lean towards ambiguity. i will never understand a thing… you know what i mean?
i remember when lips were free with excessive speech and inviting any type of notes from a rainy mouth of the river, but bottles were sparsely spoken… one ear to the tile, wooden floor (and more) it never happened and i coped and mended the meanings and tended the beds of flowery debenture, worded so sweetly - devoured and causing cavity to corrode deeper than the throat and pucker words sour at the core.
so when speaking begins and i give in, a voice cracking call can’t lullaby any from before. but concisely secure my exposure once more and say hello, hows you? and things? (and more)