A long and arduous journey…getting to the bottom of words.
those that are remembered
those that I have written down
those jumbled in sleepy positions…only to waken us with cold sweat.
One has to be curious…have my sentences…changed my world?
I pitch a tent, repeatedly, at the godforsaken, blasphemous, bolted door.
But words never take off her shoes…
she never promises to stay.
My words rush out in a horribly, organized, chaotic…state.
Massive…this war on word!
I shove letter upon letter onto an empty, paper plate.
And, my compromised, composition, kneels shoulder to shoulder at the church of lost faith.
