it's times like these
i'd give anything
for an emotional lobotomy.
a shot in the head
after the life you were gunning for
but then i remember the beauty of such pain.
how the finest of chefs in japan
leave the slightest bit of poison
still lingering in the flesh of the fugu
to tingle the taster's lips...
to remind us of our own mortality.
their have always been
plenty of things to say
that i haven't
as the blood from my tongue
slips through my teeth and
leaves a warm salty stench
in my mouth, i wish i had.
but speaking one's mind
is a negotiation of other
the mind is a filter for the soul.
and i save so much pain of others
by holding back
then bottle it within myself. leaving
the effervescence wanting to be tapped.
maybe someday i'll have a trademark...
a brand of drink consisting of
fermented hardships and aged perfectly
what a thrill!
what a thrill that would be to taste.