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.
So breed my wormy words, wriggling harbingers of thoughts untamed.
I shan’t call you parasites, but my little tumour du bonheur.