The more words I have,
the less there is to say.
Thinking has become an act of
meditation in which I run my
fingers through my hair,
ruining the curls and forcing
them to become straight, limp tendrils
that try to crown my face. My new
silhouette is unnaturally natural.
Maybe I started with a base of two
and that's how we got here. How do
you do it? Speak so eloquently, I mean.
Never quieting down. Always walking
along a comprehensible path of paragraphs.
Do my words still make sense?
I'm fearing they sound strange.
Do you know what I mean?
See, this is why my dictionary
might be better off
tucked away in a storage bin.