We are tuesday people. - Mitch Albom
Ramble.
That’s how we find our way out.
We ramble.
I ramble.
I create palisades of
alabaster, sundered low
by seraphims adorned in bricks.
I let the words puncture
my epidermis, and illuminate
forebears incidental to
my own creation.
In my blubbering to keep
track of my tongue,
I bring faerie realms
to my rotten eye
and raise the octave
of how their names are said.
My rambling words control
them. I confuse them.
They crash continents
They break breakfast
They appall animation.
My rambling,
Your ramblings,
They’re rambling.
We strike the air like a clap
of blunder; and in the quiet
hereafter,
as we examine are purple
bruised elbows. We find that
Words
Mean more to us,
Than we do to them.