This is my voice.
Listen.
Taste it. Please.
Today it is clearer in black,
but in all honesty, I thought this first in blue,
it is true. I lapis up all that literary lazuli
and it changes when I spit it back out.
Stereo-typed, twice in Dolby.
I hear the crackle, taste the salty pixels,
it can be shocking
to play two songs at once.
Tune it. Tune your tune her to tune her in.
Try to simplify, try to translate
in other terms,
on other channels,
I have tried talking in acrylic, the accent is too thick,
I am past brushing up properly.
Some thoughts are shapeless
and cannot be conveyed
with any sociological accuracy
we can shoot in one direction
and get stabbed in the back.
All along I was here
waving words in poetic privacy
that speak aftertaste
too deep to hear
muffled in print.
Now swallow.
Painting by Pierre Carrier-Belleuse (1894) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
