I lay my head on a pillow made of stones
Just like Joseph.
I dream each night
And remember every moment.
I wish I did not.
I climb a rotted wood ladder up to the clouds
And as I reach the top
One step gives out
And I fall
To the ground
I stand and I smile
As my teeth peel out
And fall into my cupped hand.
Yesterday I dreamt my palms were full diamonds.
Today they are replaced by my yellow teeth.
I am a romantic.
You can tell by the wine stains on my lips
And the cigarette burns on my tongue.
With a black rose in his breast pocket
Forming trees in his head
Understanding the anatomy of
The human’s words.
Fascinating but dangerous
Too much thought today is like a fancy revolver
Loaded with one bullet.
Click the trigger a few times and feel understanding present itself.
But reach that bullet and you have overdone it.
Watch the linguist’s gray matter
Paint the walls
As it slowly slides to the floor.
A linguist’s brain is beautiful
But only when it is whole.
For pieces of a linguist's brain spread around the room like an
Does no good for anyone.
And it never ever will.