Words are what we have
In my mumbled jumbled mixed up mouth.
They are the radiance of me, my outward display
A verb is not doing as I am
The description burns and curls at the edges
The prose is my verse rushing through my loaded mind
The summary of me, can you see?
Can you see through me to the words I write.
Like a script I write my outward display,
But mainly with words, I don't know what to say.