The misuse of words

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Clumsy colossal clouds condense,
drip
by
drop

from great height rain
. f
a .
. l
l .
. s
as though it tripped

a thousand feet up

were it more wise, it might descend, or flutter, or even waft.

Snow has more sense. It drifts
it bides its time and
sneaks up,
smoothing over
everything
freshly fallen
dances like white fire
When a fight breaks out
between the wind and the road
the snow gladly
gets caught in the middle
in patterns chaotic
and beautiful we
should be so lucky
to be caught amongst the winds.

I dream of waking one day to find it all unmasked, absolute proof laid bare before me like a glossary. Here behind the veil we tilt at indoor windmills, whose purpose is but counterpurpose, to distract and deny.

One need not know what one studies to learn from it. And lo, as I sit, eyes closed on the lawn, my sensations eventually become feelings, and feelings cannot hide from thoughts indefinately. My freshly toweled hair redampens. The idea of ‘rain’ soaks into me.

Words spill from my pen like a similie. God speaks in coffee stains. Dogs think in onomatopoeia. Metaphors aren’t. The misuse of words is inevitable.

But who is that
Silhouette in the mist
whose hand extended
arrives in a fist?
Whose insidious dealings
are incessantly stealing
my logic from thought and
my thought from my feelings?
Where are my words unstrung
after my brain and before my tongue
What demon intervening
has them wrung dry of their meaning
soaked with sound and interference
but robbed of reason and coherence?

Explain myself?
Who art thou
so bold to
askst I be explainéd?
Quoth the Raven,
“Not today, Satan.”
I’ve spent much too much
time in thought
to be understood
I’m over stood,
You under stand?
No? Good.
because if nobody gets you
here’s my thought:
maybe it’s better not
to be got
And questions are just accusations in masks. Why can’t I just have an answer, no questions asked?
For my up will always be someone’s down. My smile will always cause someone, somewhere to frown. And mornings are always best when no one else is around. Like undisturbed snow, don’t step in it if you’ve nowhere to go. A letter is better left unopened anyway. Sometimes we only talk just because there’s nothing left to say.

I imagine ice boiling with contempt, melting the morning steam into dew. A friend once told me we were luminous beings but I forget who. Existence has no theme but itself.

How long can we hold on to meanings before all is lost to paradox and incongruence. Realize… it’s ALL contrived. Don’t mind me, just killing time until the supernova. If I met you in a dream I apologize. I thought it was mine. I was really enjoying myself until you noticed me. All coincidence, I’m sure. Effect affecting means. Ends justifying causes. We are merely unresolved rounding error, liminality. Not lost but temporarily misplaced, we’re only

still here because something forgot momentarily
that we really

shouldn’t be.

non orange words

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