Self Portrait

Self Portrait

Sometimes

I'd bite my tongue so hard

it'd begin to bleed a bit.

It would drip down the sides

of my mouth.

Drying into maroon,

it would

crack and fleck off.

Sometimes

I'd bite my tongue so hard

I'd bite a piece off.

I'd spit out

the dripping piece of meat

and observe it.

Once a part of me,

now nothing but dead flesh.

I've done this for years.

You cannot speak

without a tongue.