take
anything i say
with
a grain of salt
as
my words
seem
tasteless
in my mouth

my tongue
is coated
with
coffee

my mind
with
dull ache

i shouldn’t
operate
heavy machinery
or
a quill
when in this state

but
if the pen
is mightier
than the sword
cannot think
of a more fitting way
to die

he died
doing
what he hated
dry swallowing
bland words
and
salt
by the spoonful

alone

arbitrarily ruled
death
by
verbicide