Thursday, October 6, 2016

Sarah St Vincent Welch # 268 what happens with words

fit myself into words lips swell crack knuckles ache eyes red jellies crusty split feet balloons I have not moved as the words enclose me close the lid push me down lean elbows on me I’m trying to crawl out words are counting down they are running from the corners to join defying linguistics making out they are something other than a box that they are my veins and cartilage neurons and synapses microflora they punctuate with jagged commas way too many flap me with a thesaurus wear down my spine words used to be friends but they say find find jobs find money make money with us and my fingers are kranskies my belly a hive of wasps a knife in my voice box they have sharp corners they are being clever and dear they hurt making me fit they don't work they don't work but dear they try words to make me fit


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