H.M.

Introspection.

I am looking tired,
spitting out carefully folded
foreign-language confessions
that may never be translated.
Chapped and peeling lips, revealing
everything and nothing and
the end and the beginning with
a hollow whistle between my teeth. 
 

Gin and tonic absolution!
You keep my brain locked tight
and my lips flapping -
sun-singed sails in the wind.