just in

These three-dimensional, crisp words,
are about to jump out of the page and hijack my brain.

Even though I just wrote them,
they’re resisting the eternal exile of where they rested, ...
deep in the womb of my subconscious.

Words are like that – bewitched.

If they’re rightly selected,
placed in the precise order,
they shake up reality,
they liberate infinite amounts of energy,
they tie, and pull, and scream.

Like keys, they open up paths of multiple enlightenments,
roads of sickly destruction,
or die a second after being conceived,
ignored by that who envisioned it.

Words are cells. Ideas are bodies.

And sometimes, when they leave my brain where they hid for years,
they just don’t seem to be happy.

So they stick around the lamp,
Trying to return to the light.