They cut and burn my tongue upon exiting
these vile lyrics
meant to unleash a lashing
with fire balls
thrown from pierced eyes
blind to reason
offering no insight to the inside
these syllables are formed
with a forked tongue
made from pieces of me I hide at dinner parties
where there is no charm
no vibrancy to shield a conspicuous look
I watch too closely for my own comfort
convincing there
is conniving yet
knowing in my heart it is my own conducting
this dramatic orchestra of invisible musicisians
play songs I am writing
from my histories of lost faith
out of tune
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