Nov 2011
Your throat is itchy
and you’re not sure if it’s because
the sour taste in your mouth that you just had to swallow
or if it’s because you’ve run out of things to say.
Run out of things to say? You? Ha.
You, who can wax philosophical about rugs, and black lines
And the failings of the second dimension.
No.
You have not run out of things to say.
You have simply grown tired of talking.
The medium exhausts you.
The bone weary tired creeps, slowly, up and up your spine
and never, ever, reaches your eyes.
You have not run out of things to say.
Words spill from you in torrents,
phrases with jagged edges escape the gap
that is between your lips and fall
tumbling
to the floor.
Not saying anything at all.
It’s not that there is nothing to talk about.
It’s just that when you open your mouth
your brain spills out in droves
and you don’t flatter yourself into thinking
you think well.
I don’t think well.
I don’t think well, but I speak even worse.
It’s been a long time since I’ve opened my mouth and given a speech.
All I do is talk. All I’m doing is running out of things to say.
Inside of me, speeches
are welling up
crashing like tidal waves into
the blood/brain membrane
floral in a way that only fantasy
and spoken word
accept.
But they are real.
Real
So real that I become afraid to open my mouth.
I cannot give this speech.
I’ll leave it to the falling rain
and the icy sinew
and the folding sky.
They speak the same language
I cannot give this speech.
I can not find the word that mean what I need them to.
I cannot define my terms
I have nothing to say.
I talk to nobody.
Or, rather, I talk to the air around people
and sometimes they listen.
Normally, they don’t.
It’s not as though I am saying anything.
Or, rather, it is not as though I mean anything.
You’ve stopped lying.
But you don’t ever mean the truth.
You, whose tongue is silver: because it is malleable,
and lays people into sheets,
have run out of things to say.
And I, whose tongue is lead and carbon
reactive and sticky and tripping
am you.
And neither me, nor I, have anything to say.
and you’re not sure if it’s because
the sour taste in your mouth that you just had to swallow
or if it’s because you’ve run out of things to say.
Run out of things to say? You? Ha.
You, who can wax philosophical about rugs, and black lines
And the failings of the second dimension.
No.
You have not run out of things to say.
You have simply grown tired of talking.
The medium exhausts you.
The bone weary tired creeps, slowly, up and up your spine
and never, ever, reaches your eyes.
You have not run out of things to say.
Words spill from you in torrents,
phrases with jagged edges escape the gap
that is between your lips and fall
tumbling
to the floor.
Not saying anything at all.
It’s not that there is nothing to talk about.
It’s just that when you open your mouth
your brain spills out in droves
and you don’t flatter yourself into thinking
you think well.
I don’t think well.
I don’t think well, but I speak even worse.
It’s been a long time since I’ve opened my mouth and given a speech.
All I do is talk. All I’m doing is running out of things to say.
Inside of me, speeches
are welling up
crashing like tidal waves into
the blood/brain membrane
floral in a way that only fantasy
and spoken word
accept.
But they are real.
Real
So real that I become afraid to open my mouth.
I cannot give this speech.
I’ll leave it to the falling rain
and the icy sinew
and the folding sky.
They speak the same language
I cannot give this speech.
I can not find the word that mean what I need them to.
I cannot define my terms
I have nothing to say.
I talk to nobody.
Or, rather, I talk to the air around people
and sometimes they listen.
Normally, they don’t.
It’s not as though I am saying anything.
Or, rather, it is not as though I mean anything.
You’ve stopped lying.
But you don’t ever mean the truth.
You, whose tongue is silver: because it is malleable,
and lays people into sheets,
have run out of things to say.
And I, whose tongue is lead and carbon
reactive and sticky and tripping
am you.
And neither me, nor I, have anything to say.
