Sans sang-froid

Somewhere a clock starts ticking
I'll be the porcelain doll
(your bad day prize)
and you can be king
if you'll promise to keep me
tongue-tied
t w i s t e d u p
(unable to speak
for fear of contradicting myself)
You grin,
I shiver.
As I kiss eloquence goodbye
The momentum shifts
Our deuce to your advantage
(while I pray you don't exist)
target practice begins;
you aim for Achilles' heel