squinty little eyes on the shine, in that shine.
my face is turning, growing into something
it's a little destruction planet.
I blow out my teeth with my words
the words trip out my throat &
the words tongue my tongue.
the sun tongues me
and my teeth explode
and I gum the words for the rest of time
and there are palatal licks of sound
and alveolar outbursts
and labial laments.
but those dentals be damned, a toothless attempt
at getting across any desperate points
metalepsis
So all that's left is the voiceless acceptance
the gutterally giving in
the fricitive finality.
Take my words but
spare my sight. I want to die with memories in me
of the very things words don't do
glitter
glow
gush
weep
words might, but sight happens better,
how would they ever catch up
