MET.A

written on my tongue,
a tasty argot
exacts a revenge on who I am,
it outplays my own curiosity.

it twists what I have to say
a polygon of irony for my idiolect, soughs
and makes me forget what
I thought I never will

don't speak of potential
it's all a chase for the beyond
"condense fact from the vapor of nuance"
just sum up all we keep losing
evaporation on our well of creativity

so... originate and become
find jocularity in it's hidey hole,
in cahoots with the enemy of enemies
and espouse the truths that scare you most.