It's not so much the burn, but the stench.

I am so sleep deprived these days
that I am beginning to hallucinate in real time.
Did you see that? (I didn’t think so)
Everyone in the fucking room can hear me
talking to myself, out loud, to you. I am beginning
to think that they hear you also.
Or wait, was that me? It was
me...(don’t be too sure) could have been
all the words are running one into the other.
The whisper soothes, the other screams, and yet
another tells a tale in 250 words or less.
I am privileged to speak in more than one tongue,
last count...Three, “oh lucky me.”
Each purpose served with validity
and temperance, but how fucking loud
must I scream before you down it all?
And that ringing, what is ringing in your ears
when a friend, of a friend, of a girl
who trades innuendo for immortality
to the devil mentions me?
Truth (not even close). It’s not cheap.
And there’s not enough to go around these days.
And I keep all of those trades
in my pocket (thought I was the devil, did ya?).





p.s. and to this day it clings to the words both to and from and the memories.