That miserable rhythm;
It aggressed my ears.
Rising from acrid lips,
And spat across the way from
Those lips, anointed with venom.
O, that rancid breath!
From the viscid chime of
Billows and bellows
I wanted only silence:
Borne to a chance to confabulate –
To bring something to
The forefront of a terse
Shuffle: sanctimonious
At a wonder of my own;
Treading those damned
Flats of reviling – I jostled
The teeth in his head,
Gums wrapped around that
Terrible tenor.
They bled acid. I wanted to
Just say something – anything
To shed the light
Toward the torn traces of
A forbearance of the objectives
Lain down, in lieu
Of a moment spent
Spitting bile from between
A yellow tooth and a yellow tooth,
And this integrity lost
In a sphere of charred cheeks;
That trenchant tongue that could protrude
And explicate that savage union of tones
Sent against blackest foe.
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