back to the madness of hazelnut tea
tastes like a rectum, but gets me from A to B
with minimum tangents on deliberate doubts
losing the rumbles, but winning the bouts

what are your specials today, if i may inquire
it appears that you have seated me, intentionally, by a fire
maybe to warm me with a homely resurgence of pain
maybe to unclog the vocal chord drain

strum the lung and heart strings that are youthfully ringing
numb the scarred wounds that somehow are still stinging
blow me in front of your mexican friend
peeling away at my love like it's the second to last cheese string strand