words are clumsy and imprecise, narrowing complex emotions into simple groupings of letters that do not adequately express anything, open as they are to misinterpretation and minimalization.   even when i’m not falling into a pit from which even the thought of escape diminishes like the ever-decreasing fragment of light shining faintly from the top, i’m aware of their futility and i slowly cease to … Continue reading words are clumsy and imprecise

  i used to have poetry, before my mind broke, shattering into some hundred-million glittering shards, and when it fractured, i think the words went with it. they don’t come ‘round much anymore,   ‘cept in annoying Seussian couplets of subjects mundane, the banality of which makes me totally insane.   there was a time when the words flowed like water, sentences would spring fully-formed … Continue reading i used to have poetry