Words, pt. II

I could not stop the words. they tumbled out, one two five after the other, phrases lines entire paragraphs of hypochondriac hyperbole and neurotic nonsense. I knew this was a bad time and place to talk I knew the ideas would not be manifested properly I knew these were words best left unspoken, but still I could not dam the desperate torrential need for understanding, still I sought sympathy where I knew indelible smears and fingerprints would be left and you would never be able to look at me the same way again. I felt the words react and become combustible once they were freed into the open air but still I could not suppress the ever-growing urge for self-sabotage, still I needed to self-immolate in order to cleanse some horrifying imagined taint. our foundation was built brick by brick so painstakingly on words and in a fragile fraction of that time I razed it with the very same.


that night I had let your words swim straight to my head like scotch, had let them warm me until I was dizzy and aglow with contentment. in passing remarks I heard unspoken promises; in casual truths I heard a secret, fervent desire. yet this was my standard method, deriving unfounded significance and meaning from ordinary prose, my lesson still unlearned. in the morning I shook the last intoxicating traces from my head and knew with a heavy heart that this had once again been a labor of self-deception.