Old Mother Knicker-Knacker

Distorted silence
With sinister mouth
Gaping poisonous fangs
Waiting to pounce on
Childish notions
Twisting to form some
Great radiation beast
That devours
What should be said
And leaves
Nothing, a hole
That oozes the Abyss
On the edge
I am fearful
Of the black tar
That seeps into our conversation
And engulfs huge chunks
Of words in its gelatinous mass