your mouth opens, surging argue. you feed trains
of thought railroad ties and square traces
of kudos; left to their own demise and
not yet understood. you reck syllables,
comforting enough to fuel oil jets speed; flying,
you smoke and lie awake
fretting, thinking foul mouths end swiftly
but can not be controlled. you
can't please them all. so you please few;
candied tongue severed and aimless...
obtuse and unworthy to touch the one you
wish to please the most. you hum dirty floor
away by the next set of wills filling, foaming
cats tails-a cropped candle burning
with no place to drip.
you grow a beard because you think she'll like it,
but it won't pay the bills.