occasionally, i am frustrated.

~eat your words, they're good for you~

pathetic attempts to take a road less traveled
remind me of things not easily walked on,
like a shattered piggy bank.
so, reaching boiling point, yet speaking
with the whisper of steam over a simmer, scattered sense
ringing in copper tones,
like electric wires of quarterless pay phones,
you speak, like a profit
                        would be reaped,

searing your tongue on words too late
in a bowl of Alphabet I'm Omega Soup
and with that odd spoon effect, where everything is reflected
upside down
you sip the retrospective landslide
with that bitter, yet new taste
of never having better.
stop
one second (helping is enough)