My WOrds

My Words

  I have words in my head, I feel them hard against the temples.

      L o o s e, chaotic words, fighting, scrambling for form.

 – My words are worms –

  Cut them, splice them and they only proliferate, grow.

 Go forth then my words and multiply; I shall trepan myself for the sake of productivity

I am a progenitor;

    a pro-life janitor; a prodigious sperm;

      quite passing in my prolificacy.

   I

   am

    fecund.

          So breed my wormy words, wriggling harbingers of thoughts untamed.

            I shan’t call you parasites, but my little tumour du bonheur.

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