'The biggest problem with communication is that we don’t listen to understand, we listen to respond.'

You trace my bottomless eyes to the pit of my stomach
You stare at the tip of my tongue,
With that sordid tang on it;
Reassure me now,
I am not the cause of it.

Taste, but not too late
The stuff of which
I am made.
Never think
I would clean the bottom
Piety of your sink

Would you hear me?
Muffled in a crowd?
Where my delusions
Of your confusions
Are shrouded

I smell repugnance
And make nothing of it
O the fancies of tongues
Bowed, I make nothing of it
In the crowd I hear your sound
I make nothing of it
My rejoinder blaring loud
You make nothing of it

The boil of the grey water
Murky glasses unclean -
Silent unorderly

I make a run for it.