Head Cold

Head Cold

Cold and wet words press my ears
With the burning sensation
Of verbal fire
Stroking my desire
Like Pandora’s whispering
Tempting evil.
Cold fluids running
Down the back of my throat
No chance to emote
From my own perspective
Directed, lulled by
A sour taste in my mouth
An afterthought of you
Brine-washed brain-rot
Evidenced by malformed sentences
Breaching the trine-pact of
Mind
Body
Soul
I’m pickle-peppered-peter-pipered
Wet daddy roached
Informal-de-HYDE
Holding my tongue
Makes me JEKYL.