Tongue tastes of cinder and ash

I wash my mouth with soap and cannot scrub

hard enough-

Sinful orator throws words and spit

like daggers striking apples

on top of my head;

I am the fool of all fools

almost willingly at some point

but that’s ok I am here to be

your entertainment as long

as you will remember me

well.

Perhaps anonymous acts of ambiguity

and strangers in bars doing drugs in bathrooms

stand together in solitude;

a group in a stall doesn’t mind a moment of silence;

a lack of conversation

is probably good here-

other than “trust me it’s fine,”

which is a wonderful conversation to have

in the bathroom stall of some bar with ambitious strangers.