Remembering as micturition projects streams of subconsciousness.
This faecal cylindroid expurgates wasting words.
I’m visioning cuts, raping red words pouring.
Loving those sneezes catapulting catatonic cadences.
You helped my skin burst, propelling passionate punctuation.

But no words could ever be spoken about you



And dead skin cells corpsed carcinogenic characters.
Always a feeling that hair from my head represents rhetorical rantings.
Will you give back the breath that bore brazen alphabets?
You grew a blue bruise circularising a dome of ungrouped words.
Are those really my yawns gulping grammatical air?

But no words could ever be spoken about you



My facial lines creased deeply with barbarous words.
Living stretches carried uniform unformed sentences.
And laughter pretended preposterous pronouns.
My tears toiled and tracked italic utterings.
Life meant that spent neural networks napalmed metaphors.

But no words could ever be spoken about you