I have this habit of inserting my foot into my mouth… You see, because I am a talker.  I open my mouth and fling all sorts of things out, and then am left amidst the rubble… So I put my foot in my mouth.  That way I don’t speak, because I can’t.  That way I don’t have to fight the full scale war of comprehension – taking the personal complexities of my thoughts and emotions and stating them in a way for you to comprehend it.  Sure I lose the ability to walk, and I imagine that I look rather comical hopping around… but – I don’t have to face you.   I don’t have to worry about the fear of mis-communication or rejection… because my foot is in my mouth.  It’s funny – I want to speak to you.  I enjoy the aesthetics of verbal connection.  But I read in your eyes the need to be constantly amused, and your silence is your greatest weapon.  In addition I grew up as a tough door – dealt with hard knocks – and so I am slow to learn lessons.  When my lips part, the content is up for guessin.  It might be comical, it might be crude, it might be nice, it might not.  It might be endearing, it might be mocking, it might be ministry… heck it might be pure rot.  The only common theme which hems all these things, is that no matter what is said, it is undeniably, irrevocably – me.  That’s good enough isn’t it?  By your looks I am guessing not.  By your looks I can tell that this version of me needs to be shot, and the model you have selected should be erected in my spot.  There is a person you are wanting me to be so that your world makes sense… But I bleed nothing but dead presidents, and of the Unorthodox Club I am the president of it.  Heh.  Is it bad that I thrive on being a jerk?  Being the only one of my kind in the crowd willing to go an entirely different level of berserk?  Uh-oh… There I go running off at the mouth again.  That’s because my foot is not in it.  I removed it so I could speak to you for a minute.  Treat your ears like a shoe, and put my thought socks all up in it.  Get it?  Heh.  Don’t judge me… because you can’t handle the explanation.  Suffice it to say that I have a curious habit.

I put my foot in my mouth…





~The Wordsmith


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