Cracked Lips

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Tags:
  • Speech
    • ,
  • Love
    • ,
  • Aliens
    • ,
  • Poop
    • ,
  • Lips
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  • Inaccurate Text
    • GeniusMan
    • When push comes to shove, conga lines can get pretty ugly.

    Poem Commentary

    Poop. All the time. Okay, so I left and came back to this poem and apparently I wrote this as a comment. I laughed for a minute and then decided I'm keeping it. Regardless, that title is terrible and the poem is mediocre, but this is what you'll have to hold onto if the comment section is letting you down.

    Cracked Lips

     Have you heard
     the trickling source
       you call a mouth
    is drying up?

    Your words are now
     no longer known
      are running out
    and dying from,

    An aching need
     to empty voids,
      stop hogging things
    you think you think.

    My ears will bleed
     all dehydrate
      you're robbing me
    from when you speak.

    Where once was fill
     of basic taste
      no longer there
    but left to hung,

    The drought of thoughts
     with sands of sound
      leaves deserts near
    a swolen tongue.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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