February 4, 2013

The curious urge to implicate myself in a suspicious plot for no reason

I feel my composure blur
like a thick tongue in wine

my steady block reason
frays like an old sock

I am suddenly dressed
in an urge
to say irreversible things

I cannot bear
the easiness of it

the guards ask
their dull questions

none of them suspecting
that I am biting off the words
as they try to chew through my teeth

inventions of defiance
and fascination
at how fate would rush in
while I watched
aghast at what invisible thing
could not be undone.

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