Lights illuminate this courtroom scene
and I am standing in the central artery,
translucent and immaterial to your reckless steps
as they walk straight through me.
But under oath the words will fail
to accept the lies you hope to spin from your lips;
those spoken but then denied
will testify to the tongue that shaped them
and the mind that orchestrated their sounds to escape
on the exhaled breath,
till all the jury hears is the jumbled letters you have left,
stubbornly scrambled like your sense of morality,
the judge orders a straitjacket to curb your corroding mentality.
And I can feel my mouth running back to me.