Bicarbonate

Quiet, you voluble man
that frets, beyond
my bearing,
your prerogative speech

My bicarbonate,
buffer me, against
everything; that
froth under your address

All little tongues of quietude
have slithered away
under,
the gulp of sorrow and pain

Hush! Listenโ€ฆ
the feat of your wicked angel, that
do me less hard, and less pure too; as
I donโ€™t seek your heart, anymore

I am one joy
Among my happiness;
owning stillness at night
That sounds nothing alive

Quiet, you voluble man
that split, gnawing
My usual form, else
I will cast anchor upon you!

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