words...

I write a million words on my wall, and I look at them,
And laugh at myself.
I make flow charts between them,
Scientifically calculate their accuracy.
String them into silly little poems with no rhythm no rhyme.
I spike them onto kebab sticks and braai them on hot coals,
Serve them with chilli and lime.
I sew them into pink ballet shoes and hang pretty ribbons on them.
I sever them from my body and tie them into the laces of my butch black boots.
I wear them like shiny pearls from my neck,
And I drape them on the windows in the serenity of my bedroom.
I loath in them and swim in them,
And I laugh at how they float off in big soapy bubbles.

I wish I could construct a sentence and wrap it in tissue paper,
Tie it in a bow and place it on your door step.
Then tomorrow, when you wake,
It will be there,
These words I chose for you.

I know you will find them,
Somewhere inside me in time to come.