Once again I’ve said words I regret and yet
when my mouth works faster than my brain
it’s plain they’re sub-par, but only my mouth
speaks the Devil’s words to entangle me in
angles that become situations I don’t like.
It has ruined my life by saying, “Marry me,”
not once, but twice. My brain knew better,
but was unable to shut that hole in my face
that like an automatic gun, without a doubt,
spouts unthought words faster than I can think.
I take a drink and think that I should invent a
zipper to keep it closed, so I can’t disclose,
but if I did that, I wouldn’t have anything to say.
Maybe that would be a good thing to be unable
to speak or even shriek for at least a week.
Without words to do my dirty work, I’m afraid
in less than an hour, my brain will be overworked
when my mouth has been forbidden to speak all
week, and I’m unable to annunciate things I want
my big mouth to say.