Commit This To Memory

I'd given up trying to find words to convey
but there'll be no more dancing 'round what I have to say.
This situation's just metaphors I can't create
But I'll forge them in hopes that your lines will abate
Your mind's but a weapon, recruiting yourself
drafted into a scheme of displaying your wealth
with your tongue as a sword and your lips as a shield
deflecting the weapons your mind tries to wield
and the acidic taste of your swallowing pride
proclaims 'armed and ready' in voluptuous time
but cut off the source and the men will betray you
the lies that you've spun will no longer allay you
then there's this sensation- like bulimia, but in paragraphs
when the words behind your teeth come forth with quick gasps
and the more that you swallow, the more that comes back
polluting the air in a savage attack
and now whether it's instinct or something you've timed
you've beheaded the armies that kept you in line
and the things that you thought, but never would say
formed a makeshift militia and started away
bursting forth with a vengeance, all the could muster
while mine remain feeble with contempt, and lackluster.
now that 'wish you were here' becomes 'glad that you're not'
maybe once it was different but it seems i forgot.
postcards are nothing but lies ill-begotten
to console those left behind that they've not been forgotten
and to flaunt in their faces volcanoes and palm trees
that they're sitting at home unable to see
to remind them the sender has taken the time
to pry their eyes from the beauty and drop them a line
but if i had a choice i would white them all out
and tell you the truth im not thinking about:
that i hope you enjoy your cocktails and wine
but when it comes to chivalry, i haven't the time
and my armies won't forfeit, they'll just up and run
for when it comes to invading, you haven't the guns
so you'll pretend i'm still smiling behind my veneer
and i'll pretend to be sorry if i sound insincere
while your eating disorder of words still remains
and your sentences fester on half-spoken names
picking and choosing what it wants to ingest
but spitting them out in a whirl of disgust
i can write you the truth and you'll savor the taste
but regurgitate misconceptions with terrible haste
dripping with rancor and grinning with bile
trickling lies from your half-hidden smile
so easily interrupted, so quickly ignored
i'll try for the words so completely adorned
with symbolism and metaphors, among other things
you'll have a heck of a time figuring out what i mean
since you only listen to what you want to hear
i'll just whip out the words and i'll disappear.
I'll coincide with radios and swim through their waves
lose myself in lyrics and drown in their pain.
Rock out to rhythms and mingle in melodies.
Revel in the power that the headphones have to save me.
For if memory serves
 I'm addicted to words
and they're useless if no one's listening.