Broken.
All my words broken.
Asunder and cracking.
A slinger hurling stone against my forehead,
Breaking me.
I had one language; and this I began to do:
Nothing was restrained from me, which I had imagined to do.
Now, my thoughts, like a people speaking the same language, scattered.
You came down. Confounded my language.
The jawbone.
Speaking with just the jawbone of an ass. I could have slain heaps upon heaps.
With just the jaw. Of an ass.
Heaps upon heaps.
Nothing that is said, matters.
The towers fallen, and Shem is dancing, cackling in tongues.
Language is broken. The jawbone.
Broken.
Like Nimrod shuffling through the desert,
My lips. Numb.
You thief.
I curse you with a curse, you are robbing the whole nation of yourself.
Writer Moe 
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