Photo Credit: unknown.
Dearest Koalemos! By CpSingleton © 2015
Each time my mouth slips
A wasp flies in to bite my tongue.
Do I see an ethereal wagging finger, or
An awakened mind to lessons?
If the latter,
Why can’t I cut the idiotic words short
Before the floppy appendage wafts
Them into this reality’s existence?
Is it because I’m a clown suit
Over a child’s body?
Each flop-flippety step
A mine field for my throat.
Dearest Koalemos, why
Doth you run throughout
My veins with such a
Reckless carefree attitude?!