the advent in which your sapid syllables taste
as if it were my teeth to revere your tongue
and my throat that swathe the emptiness that mollified the room;
has left the underpinning of my core crestfallen and blight.
you amass a secret in the quaver of your lip
and the ripples that loom will rive me.
you pilfer all that i am yet promulgate veracity with mendacity;
i am completed by your chaos.