When I lose myself, I go back to words.


What is a word, you ask.

a word is a world, a shape

a constellation of consonants that

split from themselves to

cluster round vowels

through mitosis.

O, what is this egg

this universe of sound

that surrounds and binds us

in guttural awe?

It is Noise

It is Colour

It is Texture

It is A Thousand Flashbacks

to your childhood scrawl

The cat sat on the mat.

to the first & last letter of your name.


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