we speak in circles in speak with tripping tongues 
tripping over our own saliva secreting from our wounds. 
these lame metaphors are metaphorically tearing at my 
heart strings. if you want some childs play with words, 
you want it, you got it. but ive been proven that words 
are meaningless. the answer is yes so you can lead your 
exegesis to your cross. wipe that cheetah off your lips. 
its your leopard like style which keeps me swept away 
under the puzzled patterns of your mind where you dont 
think ill hide. swept awayunder the puzzled patterns of 
your mind where you cant lock me out. and all the soul 
singers can sing straight up 'i wish you still called 
me.' your words drip with sincerity. your words could 
wash me clean. make the kitten coo. strike the felines 
fur. you mask your own desires. she masks her own 
desires. why cant we say what we want to? why cant we say 
what we need to? ive been buried around these same old 
broken homes that we found. these words could fill six 
bottles. paise them to your lips; sink them to your 
stomach. we could fill ourselves on empty calorie 
conversation. you used tos peak for something, now you 
just recyle shit.