Just a Word


A sincere, well toned bicep.

The letters jumping out like a scare tactic.

‘Just a word…’

A visual of sensual static.

How diverse my thoughts can be…

When awakened from my migrant sleep.

Words…Have created an obsession ever since,

I believed they were items…

Never truly conceived.

Akin to a pig in a blanket of her own mess.

I would wrap myself up in pictures to relieve a writer’s stress.

Soon enough, my ego led to slaughter.

It is not the language that betrays me.

But the pleasing taste of indifference to conformity.

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