my words to stomp. I will be patient and mature, but my words do not. They dance a dance in my head and they say a no for each of my jas.
my words out and do a demonstration of its in the streets of the city, but I bite their heads off and swallow it down.
sometimes they are too bitter and I spit out one that is on your street, small and black and maybe someone enters into it, then stick it on the sole of the shoe and he wears it in the world.
the words I crawl up the neck, they lie to me on the tongue and between the teeth as remnants of chewy candy, it can not accept me.
I brush my teeth more often than before, and then I cough and a word they turned and punched me in front of eyes.
the word rage and bites me in the nose and I sneeze. when I open my eyes then, the word is gone, I hear a noise there, it throws the garbage at home before falling to the ground rattling.
I find no words, but the words find me, so I pull my blanket over the head or drink hot milk with honey.
the words find me stupid, I know, because there are more and more. those that I do not know, through me flicker and complicated sound like and how dark mysteries.
do the words make me love, I realize that because they ensnare me and sometimes I sounded like her for a while.
there are only words, I say to myself and then have a guilty conscience and therefore to strong coffee in hand, which is to wash away sticky sweet, with which I want to saccharified.
I loved the words, once, but now there are too many and the right to hide always giggling, so I they do not think.
sometimes I prefer the words long as chewing gum and thread it around my finger, but I forgot what I mean.
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