What happens when your tongue's all tied
And words come out like stale vomit up your throat
You spit them out
Onto the page
The clean white page
Destroying the now unsanitary thing
That had once preceded greatness
But it can’t be great all covered in vomit
We can all expect words to come out right
You can be Shakespeare if you please
But the clean white page
Well it’s just unsanitary
When you cover it in vomit
You could write beautiful sonnets
Of lovers lips touching
But one lover, no it won’t kiss the other
When the other lover is vomiting
You could paste your letters carefully
The tragic deaths of tragic heroes
They died one night
In their wine was poison
Oh that vile poison that rots our tongues
And turns our insides outward in
That sweet vile poison
That we may yet call Ipecac
Their tragic deaths mean nothing
Catching vomit in their goblets
Smashing grandmother’s best china
Down upon the kitchen floor
Ruining the fried chicken
And your southern mashed potatoes
Your vegetables are ground in
With the vomit on the table
For vomit covers papers
Covers hopes and dreams and lies and such
Stains them with the rotting smell
Of dead fish and there’s more
For we all require greatness
Though the tongue is not required to be mute
But your fingers hit the keyboard
And your toes they start a tappin’
And the vomit cleans itself up
Because no one really likes it
When you bury a nice clean sheet of paper
Making it unsanitary
Spitting them out unnecessarily
Vomiting all on your paper