This doesn’t compute
The lies that travel,
Silk woven webs
Have failed to connect.

I want to live on your tongue,
To see the words pass by,
Like a stage cars passing down
And when the crash hits

^BANG

And the letters jumble like passengers
Who will know what is real,
When the st-st-sttuddderr—ing sounds
Mix and relent into a lack of coherence?

What is the thing you wish to say
If you could have said, if you would have said
From your miserable maw?

Gaped with disbelief
As you hurdle credibility like landfill
Out of your mouth.

I command,
An exposition for you to stand,
Upon your own laurels
And hope you contend
On merit of your own self worth.

Lost in translation
These words no longer hold a meaning
It doesn’t bode well,
When nothing makes sense
From incredulous sources.

You remain…
A stain,
Syntax error.