Cotton-Mouth

My tongue holds cotton to my teeth Holds the dry in my throat I cannot breathe here My voice is escaped from me I do not speak with sound My hands are my larynx I hold my regards to my noise I have given my beauty to the wall clock Now I sit silently I watch the budgies in the front yard I follow the flowers and the breeze with my eyelashes This is my now I am here now I cannot breathe at all The window pane holds my heart "Keep your chin up, child" I am not a child "Put your mind at ease, baby" I am not your baby I am not love Nor hate I am somewhere betwixt loathe and affection I don't think the wall clock cares for me anymore I believe these thruths to be self-evident. I think I will wait for tomorrow to tell.