Constant consonants and agitated vowels
tickle my taste-buds,
like carbonated syllables.
I swallow my words with a great unease.
Alphabets and foreign languages
slide their way up my throat,
accompanied by soft drinks
and last night's takeout.
I'm not fluent in many languages.
I am disinterested in the mundane.
Shower me in your meteors.
I will become fluent in the artistry of
lovers, poets, stars, and all things worldly -
become braver than the trees,
and I will spill my guts,
and I will confess my sinful desires.