soft whispers, a gentle murmur,
words, words, words,
fluttering down like tiny moths,
whispering silent sonnets into my ears
tickling them them with their velvet mouths,
a torrent of words flooding in, pouring over
and over each other, like water rushing over rapids,
a violent downpour, beating at my mind,
crashing endlessly against me
they have turned now, their velvet wings
beat against me like tiny hammers,
angry mouths whispering silent screams,
hungry maws, tearing at my soul,
a maelstrom of wings beating against me
nibbling, gnawing, chewing, tearing me apart,
dry winds hurling their tiny corpses
against me, and I hear it over and over again
an endless chant of words that I can’t block out.
cant escape
caught in a paper prison, chained
by my own subconscious
a lonely convict, starved by my own mind
left to the solitude created by my own soul.
then they come again whispering with satin lips,
hushed tones clinging to my dry bones,
paper wings brushing against my hollow body,
exploring the scars they left on my wounded soul.
that was how the words killed me
