The War Of the Words

The language of this country is vulgar & coarse, like the people. They beat against each other, sounds clashing with the violence of war. Along with senseless words, I hear their saliva, their tongues writhing and lashing against the roofs of their mouths. Empty space fills their mouths and throats and they open their mouths wide and spit syllables, gulping in air, to fill the now soundless emptiness. The pained pinna vibrates and rings mutely. The words drill holes into four corners of my brain while I watch my gut gush out in revulsion. Relentlessly the walls of their throats grate. I am running my nails on rusted iron. My teeth shivers. I feel a violent spasm. Ask them to stop. But they won't, they won't.