Thoughts on Language

So many words, so little time. How to say, 'I am here but really, I am not.' I am elsewhere, managing demands for more, more and more of my words.

I am home and I am silent. I find not the words to say, 'they've taken it all out of me. The wordstealers.' I go to bed and I wake up. I find a smile and stick it on. If I smile, perhaps they wouldn't ask me for my words.

It doesn't work.

And this is why I write books not poetry. I suck at it. But then, you probably guessed.