Words

Words. I love words.

Words, neatly typed

On a page that smells like home, dust and imagination.

Words, softly spoken

Meant only for me to hear.

Words, breathlessly giggled

Before we all dissolve into stomach-stitching peels of laughter.


I like words on a screen less.

They lack emotion, yet often carry undue weight.

Shouted words I like lesser still,

As they are often used as daggers against the unsuspecting.


I love words, but I also fear them.

Words wield an incredible power.

They can surprise, they can maim, they can resurrect the dying

Or lay a family to waste.


Words can be fickle.

Said with conviction one day,

Only to lose their luster in the days that follow.

Their meaning has changed, but the original intention cannot be unremembered.


Words. I love words.

May they be full of love,

Or full of threat.

May they result in unstoppable joy

Or life-bending pain.

Words are the best chance we have

To finding meaning while we are all together in this place.

Glorious

I play the same song on repeat.

Macklemore, Glorious.

I play it so loud my doors shake with the bass.

I yell along with the lyrics,

But can’t hear myself scream

Over the refrain.

In my car, I could escape.

I don’t, I can’t- where to?

Surrounded by mountains, oceans,

The America above me and America below me.

So I drive home.

But on the way, all I hear

Is Glorious.

If only all I could hear

Was Glorious all day.

If only I could drown out

The rest of the refrains.

Shit, drama and pain,

Rinse, refrain, repeat.

If only, if only

The one single in the disc drive

Was Glorious.