Words and pictures, pictures and words
They burn, churn, yearn
They flow over me, smoothing and
scraping my edges like pebbles in a stream
In my dreams,
Words.
I sleep with my notebook
To write the weird, wacky words
Washing through my pebbles of a mind
Late at night, I write
Not quite under the stars, away too far,
Since when has my window been too far?
Since I keep my blinds shut in the morning
I'm mourning, words
Tempt, taunt, taint, tease
Write, observe, release
Pouring through pen ink on pages to touch
Maybe your heart, and maybe your dreams
Words; more than letters
Could ever hope to be