Spittin' tongues

You’re tongue.

Reaches into my ears. Your saliva stains the hairs and crystallizes my cochlea. The nerves are overtaken by your breath and out of my own mouth, pours every word you’ve ever muttered, mouthed, shouted.

I hate the sound of it.

Despise it. Loathe it. Abhor it.

Even through the filter of my own sweet voice, it sounds like,

you know how no matter the length or volume of a fart, it’s never a preferred sound over clear running water?

Yeah,...

But it doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t notice the difference if I were deaf or hearing. Even in a clearing, a space to provoke pondering. Pertinent prayers would never reach you.