I told you I wanted words
Words. Words. Words.
I already knew how to read a dictionary.
Piss taking. Word sucking vampire.
You arrogant tosser.
With your Oxford University acceptance speech.
Forbidden to contact you, because you would have to adjust your internal voice to hear my
Rant and scream, because hindsight tells me it is my every right.
I’ll see you.
I’ll see your hand.
And I’ll raise mine, to swipe your smirking face.
You should have put this bitch down.
Because she’s writing your name in a crossword.
What’s yellow and infected and begins with a C?
What’s mean and stingey without a heart?
What’s the word to watch and wait?
I got words, all of the words, I got words everywhere I look, stuffed in cushions, behind the wallpaper, under the carpets, in my drawers and bathroom cupboard.
They even insulate the roof.
Words are my religion.
Yes, I got words.
I got them all.
Each one a prayer.