Tongue Tied
My mouth's hot
and the music's loud.
Words float around my forehead and eyelids and crown,
But every single syllabus is drenched, heavy and wet,
from the weight of thinking
too damn much. By the time,
the echo's about to turn to noise,
and the wave of rhythm searches for poise
and sense to make
and madness to smell and
Grace to partake
and love to expell,
and i finally plan to
let the lyrics
roll, I stop in my tracks,
Xing sign down,
steel on fire on wood on ice.
I'm tongue tied
by my own disguise.
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