Shorts

I've been in the mood to write lately, which usually means I've been rather low. Funny how creativity comes when I am weak. Last night I was in mindless tasks and between I jotted. I have nothing else to say. Here are my jots. There is no order. There is no point.

I want to live in a world of onomatopoeias. Crash! Bang! Clang! I want force, each word to have weight, strength, substance. I want it to fill my ears like gills, to muffle and mutter. I want to be lost in the anonymity of ambiance. Something hard, kinetic, gritty, visceral. A fist to the kidney OOPH! a door to the frame SLAM! a hand to face SLAP! every action given an exclaimation.

I scold time like a puppy.

-Medicinehead-
I took the red pills and now my head hovers, as if my neck has sloughed off. I bobble and nod, a yes-man yes yes yes it bounces. Every movement has its own aftershock; the space when the thought of turning finally collides with the physical act of it. Words grapple and stumble off my tongue in droplets without the corners and edges language should inspire. Sound travels as if through water, I walk as I swim.