[Storyteller.]

I would swallow my pride,
I would choke on the rinds,
but the lack thereof would
leave me empty inside,
swallow my doubt,
turn it inside out,
find nothing but faith in nothing.
Want to put my tender heart in a blender,
watch it spin 'round into a beautiful oblivion.
Rendezvous, then I'm through with you.
I burn, burn like a wicker cabinet,
chalk white and oh so frail.
I see our time has gotten stale.
The tick tock of the clock is painful,
all sane and logical.
I want to tear it off the wall.
I hear words in clips and phrases,
I think sick like ginger ale,
My stomach turns and I exhale.