Cracked Lips
Have you heardthe trickling source
you call a mouth
is drying up?
Your words are now
no longer known
are running out
and dying from,
An aching need
to empty voids,
stop hogging things
you think you think.
My ears will bleed
all dehydrate
you're robbing me
from when you speak.
Where once was fill
of basic taste
no longer there
but left to hung,
The drought of thoughts
with sands of sound
leaves deserts near
a swolen tongue.
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