At this advanced stage of our labiodental skirmish & alveopalatal explorations Words won't come anymore
Only mangled morphemes going in & out of you going in & out of me Only tangled utterances tripping over themselves in utter haste Shapeless & shameless
Proper articulation is abandoned along with all other senses of propriety
& The critical period is past & The critical period is coming
& Words won't come at all but even if they don't
Using my tongue I can still make you
I'm just going to dump all of my old + new poems here. This one's from a few days back.