Puddles

When words spill out sideways,
in sort of a nervous spattering
of tumbling one over the other,
days of nonsense, where the tongue
ties itself in a hangman’s noose
to strangle, whatever it is, the heart
it wants to say, when the mind takes
over and the two compete and
leave me lost, somewhere in the
middle, as words, that have too
little substance, too little meaning
pour out of me in puddles.

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2 thoughts on “Puddles

  1. Carl says:

    I love your puddles! :-)

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