these words should be free, unshackled, without form and rising out of a void like creation from chaos and a big bang. instead the visions arrange themselves around the language of pauses in commas semicolons and sighs. oft repeated. same words, same vision, same nightmare, same color.
the words inside are wilder than the strange winds that whirl around the unsuspecting soul caught in a pillar of lust impervious to everything but the sense of touch. Or the thought and vision of it.
these words surround you and hold you captive in their silence. for right now the only answer is to ignore these alphabet conjugations and forget what you see in the spaces and the shadows.
For what do you see but the words stifled by hauntings of hands that traced letters and secrets and drew patterns on your body? What do you see? Too many words you wrote on the other's skin, that now there can be no more?
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