Cotton mouth

I like a blank silence
and that I get too high
to hear words flare out—
I fog up the windows
because I don't want
angry spittle in my eye.

It's okay to be lonely
and twist myself away
from nagging hands—
there's no tension
in a bouquet of vapors,
just a softly unfocused cliche.

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Had to re-post this, really didn't like the old title.