i treat language as a toy, i hardly think it necessary for language to treat me as a pawn; i don't write a language... i toy with it.

the passion surround singled out words...
  *reisch - shooting pardons -
and there's the ***** -
   depending what german you ascribe
yourself to in being -
                           the lost Seneca.
highbrow my *** -
           no wonder i swear as if making
oaths of pretending to imitate french
promiscuity -
          minus the glutton glug of a geese's
worth of arabic...
                          yes yes, i truly do understand
the nicotine hangover...
                                but can we be as bad
at numbing the trilled R, by,
harking it?
  panzer... that's a volatile word...
                     some words just have a volatility
concerning them...
you can't erase that fact,
              islam can actually imply:
metaphor...
                              i've never experienced
a medium of volatility as
pronounced as that of language...
                       the mundane can sometimes
bind to a spontaneity of riddled excitement...
the truest atomic -
           the atomic of nature of words,
far beyond the alphabetic rubric.
or the words:
    winged hussar -
      gavari?! you speak the same isolationism?
gud gniev quasi yiddi,
mein spresch, semu mi semu tybyah,
       tsemu mi ní volno
              scraches on babylon?
h'ces polaka? mas! "polaka"!