When the words don't flow like honey

When they spray from the mind in
incoherent spasms
Dribbling down the psychi
in chaotic gravitas

What then?

Where does cogency lie?

In the mere process of sifting
through the rebellious aspects
of my superego
for a shred of some salient argument
I come upon a nuance

In no manner does this make for intriguing
wordplay

And in this knowledge,
am I chilled to the emotional marrow

I castigate my whimsy
and rearrange my priorties
yet, suffer still this
logical impasse

They have no kinship - these words of mine
They obey no axiom and defy concordance in all basic methods save one

They are mine

And for as long as I have a mouth to utter them
and ears that would hear
I will spill them
and damning the fruition,
maybe make a point.


Copyright: Brian Pellerino 2005