afterward we'll continue to spin you through other insensitive venues

" Some Thing in the Back of My Throat "
by Siesta Lingo

[ written with a Seussian rhyme scheme :
^ ' ^ ^ ' ^ ^ ' ^ ^ ' ^
( ^ = unstressed; ' = stressed ) ]

There's
some thing in the back of my throat, it's been fester-
ing, pestering, besting me at what's been wrote . I've
a stammer, and rapidly worsening grammar .
An anvil is smashing the wood of a hammer .
It's sickening, thickening, with itself bicker-
ing . Yes, it's disgusting, the feeling I get when
there's nothing else here that can comfort me . Yet when
I write, even though it may make little sense, there's
a remedy hiding within the essence of
these rhymes . And they're meaningless, meaning while reading
it, not quite the same is put into effect as
right now .. to me .. from when I begin to
the end, they continually flow off my pen ..
It's time to give imagination a rest, when
you're failing at each of your very own tests ..
It's difficult, when given such little freedom,
to say what you want, and to say what you need . Um,
a filler . The use of a word as a pillar,
to take up space, or utilize a time-killer .
Pain-killer, that's what I need, something to filter
the build-up, demoted to wilt the discomfort .
I'm slipping, I'm constantly right on the verge ..
of tripping over myself, falling head first . Take
a break, catch your breath, afterward we'll continue
to spin you through other insensitive venues .
And then you will see what it's like to be hat3d,
not just feel that way, but know deep down you're fading
away .. away .. You're fading away ..
from everything she says . Each time she displays her
affection, you go through each word in your head . At
her mention, you wonder it's something you said . In
frustration, you remind yourself of the fact that
you're thinking of her still, when you had a pact of
the one thing you promised you'd not do again . Now
you wish you had nev3r imagined her .. in
your bed .. A fine place to stop, when your words ..
are losing their touch, and the rhythm is lacking
.. Frankly, I find it incredibly wacky,
the fact that a poem out of hat3 for a sickness,
could end up a d|2ug that would sate your addiction .
I'm done .

[ Pwnage . ]