What?

My teeth clack loudly for attention

My tongue clicks to be heard. 

I yawn, and each ear pops its knuckles

Ready for a brawl. 

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Kept

I pour from my lips

I spit and I bite

The red stained glass shimmers in rays of sunlight
I curl my eyelids and iron my gaze

I rip off the fences in hopes that they’ll stay
I wear each worn battle on fire-lined skin. 

My hostages called,

 and they won’t let me in. 

Help!

Ah! I propagate such worthless states
I kindle hearts with eating-haste

I sip the silver lip of eyes
The gourds of flame, of fire and ice

I whirl the spinning and purloin their stares
I whistle and whip up the ferryman’s wares

I catch my breath on the current of thought
And my oil-slick heart bleeds — a lot.

NyQuil Poem

This is what it seems to be!
when all inflections bury me
engulfed in liquid sleep and stars
my mind scurries through burning hearts

i am tossed about the ground
flurrying on thought and sound
hidden tripping music weaves
a lonely caustic melody.

the words marched on my tongue
and beat a reluctant retreat
for after beating both my lungs
my teeth forced them into defeat.

someday somewhere the words will fare
far better than here they did;
i will not be able to hide in my hair
the love i refuse to admit.