Word Vomit

I think that I'd like to vomit.

You know, puke up the day-old words

That are souring and rotting in my stomach.

They seem to live there in the hollows of my soul,

The one that's a little too soft for this world.

I don't want them there anymore but

That implies that I wanted them.

.

I never did want the bile-touched words.

Though so many great authors seem to love them.

I'm more of a fan of the polished, pearly prose relegated

To the lore of my own being, my brain, the very soul that decides

What gets to come out of my mouth, my pen, my keys.

It can start a wildfire when the kindling's right.

Except, I'm damp inside like a wet match.