the last word

Looking for sacrament

I raid the houses of the holy

To try and bless

my unholy matrimony

I’m wedded to images

text bound across my heart

transmogrifying reality

in the most verbose of arts

Despite all of the abuse

I’m married to my words

I’m married to my syntax

and it’s totally absurd

Words betray me all the time

forcing themselves of my tongue

I tip toe around them, on eggshells

Whilst it chews up on the young,

naïve, idealistic version of me

who believes in its power

to make people free

I snap a shell underfoot

and the beats rears it’s linguistic head

I now have to feed it parts of me

Before it kills the conversation dead

Giving parts of me

I wish that I could keep

It slithers up my body

and into my soul it does creep

It slides inside my ear

and licks around my brain

eating all my experiences

and leaving me inkstained

Then it slithers out again

to chew upon my past,

upon that me from back then

who fell for words so fast

Now empty of experiences

I creep towards the door

The words are never satisfied

They always crave for more

There is a life beyond this

a life that needs no words

But I can’t tell you about it

The truth cannot be read or heard

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