The Original Sin

the sin of the tongue the sin of the slippery saliva when no one has anything better to talk about..... the stashing of soaking wet memories it's not slander as much as it feels like slashed tires only when it comes to thee as a certified envelope served up like hot porridge on a saturday mourning scould the soul that is how it feels when the wind howls no more the quiet may heal your wounded brain but the heart in all of it's coNfounded madness will never forget the pain of a stolen innocence after all is it not the original sin