Say it again
A curse is on me it seems. I open my mouth to
smooth things out. Instead, strike me dead, when
I speak, like a joke inflammatory words that I want
to divorce force their way through my lips. When I try
to explain. Terminology I use always paints
a picture I don’t intend.
I try to find the nearest neighbors to words I used
and touch up the canvas, but my lexis only adds to the
abstraction of my actions. Temperatures rise above
where they were before I uttered my conciliatory words
A tongue transplant is what I need, so I’ll be able
to utter soothing phrases instead of unwanted blazes.
Blaming my tongue for telling lies and any mistakes
is my way of reducing the tightening noose I unwittingly
wrap around my neck.
I let my feelings hang loose. and excuse myself from what
I’ve said and think it fair to say, “It’s my tongue that’s at fault,
because the words that it spews manage to inflame and
it shouldn’t be like that
If I could eat all my words, chew them and spit them
out so they’d spell out my intent in an orderly way,
I’d swallow everything I ever said, and at the closing
of the day, say it again from far away.