Foot in mouth…

If I thought before I spoke,

my foot would cease to make me choke.

My mouth takes off, out of control…

I’ll have to call the Word-Patrol.

Surprises shoot forth from my lips,

another case of of verbal slips.

I’m sick of sailing up Shit Creek.

I need to think, before I speak.







Once a gain…

Keep me waiting

once again

I’ll take my place in line.

No rush for my sake

once again

priority isn’t mine.

Awkward silence

once again

We’ve got no words to share.

trodden eggshells

once again

constant tension in our air.