Mumbling by Briton Underwood


sometimes I mumble
and someone will ask me to, ‘speak up’ that they didn’t hear me
and as my whimper turns to roar I frighten myself into the conversation
 before remembering my mumbling tendencies are rooted in insecurities
in wanting not to be seen
it’s to like it used to be
not like I can get blitzed
get wrecked 
fall down on the floor
cause a comedic scene
I cant do these things anymore
I’m forced to be me
I’m forced to take a look in the mirror
and not like what I see
shackled to this awkward personality 
I bring the bottle to my lips the smoking gun blasting the introvert out of me 
before waking in the puddle of piss
vomit and shame
before waking to another person refusing to speak to me
it’s not how it used to be when the only thing I needed to vanish was that blasted personality
no my crazy has grabbed in deep
and on the fourth suicidal night 
an angel spoke to me 
of intervention
of seeing the light
of moving past these fucked up memories
yet I still mumble
I mumble because I don’t want to be seen
or anything
but I will try to enunciate
and not slip sliding over slopes of words my tongue cant cope
fuck I need a drink 
relax, it’s only coffee pulsing through these veins 
these days
and these nostrils haven’t seen coke in idk 
I am mostly clean
a little unkempt
but mostly me
and I’m sorry for the mumbling
the uncomfortable silence
the avoiding of mirrors
because I don’t want to see me



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