images click on like a lamp
the room illuminates before my eyes
a great heap of steaming words
lay in the middle of the floor

i stand back at a distance
because i'm not sure what to do
the pile seems to pulsate
like signals coming from a far off star

i slowly approach the words
in fear of being bitten by a belligerent one
and they emanate warmth and colour
i am drawn in closer and closer

like a vulture i begin to circle
nearer to my precious pile of words
and begin to pluck them up swiftly
putting them in my mouth, my pocket

smearing some on the walls
and soon the steaming heap attracts the punctuation
and i have commas and periods
buzzing loudly around my head

i try to swat them away
because i want to enjoy my words
without the constrictions of grammar
but too late -- i become infected

i guess a semicolon must have crawled
in the canal of my left ear
for i begin to hear the pauses and breaks
in the paragraphs that had began to form

my skin is stained black from all the ink
the words are melting fast
leaving a puddle of ooze on my carpet
i strip and roll in it while it's still warm

i lay writhing and moaning in the puddle
and the punctuation, having completely affected
the left half of my body and mind
began to spout out verses of nonsense

i am lost in hallucinations of breathing words
and they nuzzle and brush against my flesh
as though they were little animals
purring out the vowels and consonants

and i get up and stumble out onto the street
wearing nothing but the stains of my words
i am invisible to the passing cars and people
because i have labeled myself as such

written in large bold print across my forehead
"you cannot see me" and nobody does

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