Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,
Identify.

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
Everything,
And absolutely,
Nothing.

The same word
Can be
Completely
Different,
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
Or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Harmless,
Could not
Destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.

I write what I see,
Because I am blind.
I write what I hear,
But I am deaf.
I write what I feel,
But paralyzed.
I write what I smell,
In my burnt nose.
I write what I taste,
The only sense left,
And thank the day,
Because it can be worse.

I saw forever in your eyes. . .


                Then you closed them.

There's a theory in thermodynamics
For every reaction that occurs, some energy and order is lost to the universe
Heading towards complete disarray in the grand scheme of things
So naturally, right as things started to make sense,
As soon as my life clicked together in tessellated, repeating structures,
I followed the rules of my chemistry teacher and got black-out drunk
My life has become that floral shirt shirt you can't wear with anything
You thought it was pretty in the store-
They had it dressed up on a mannequin with sleek black pants
It looked edgy, and professional
But you aren't that mannequin

"I love you,"
Scrawled out as an afterthought
My handwriting increasing in size as I ran out of words for you
I have often been named a human dictionary, but I didn't want to give myself away this time
I wasn't even sure I wanted to leave a note
I taped it to the back of a painting
You'll find it eventually

The desert welcomed me with open arms, but was only a pause
Eighty years is a long time, and three days doesn't make a difference till the end
So my pocket radio cut in and out as I dipped into the grand canyon
They recommend a gallon of water per person,
But I figured a can of coke and a little soul could hold on for now

She wound up dead on a highway
"Bought a farm," said some of my favourite authors
"So it goes."


Her body's breaking down into smaller particles
Her hair is evaporating
All that's left is her ruined paint set in a plain white apartment

I don't even remember his name,
But at the time, I swore I was going to marry him
With as much conviction as someone with their finger halfway down on the trigger of a loaded gun
I have been fired at some odd angle towards bullet-proof glass
And for the first time in my entire life,
I don't know how I'm going to make it out of this