The object of opening the mind, as of opening the mouth, is to shut it again on something solid, once said G. K. Chesterton.
Language can be described often both as flower of the mouth or a deadly virus, evil and menacing. As it stutters through an array of physical and material manifestations, sooner or later, it will sweetly or not progressively enact a strong invisble poison which lays and sediments not only on meaning as on secretions: saliva spit burp, they leave a trace on the air, they come through it.
James 3.10: From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers, these things ought not to be so. If you run across an archive of a recorded voice, and indulge in remaining there for a while, you come to believe the traces, the dejects, the excreta, are not actually a bag of meaningful prayers but a sort of deranged anisotropic which possess you in the end.
As Michaux put it clearly: One of the things you can do: exorcism.