Coherence is not -
I cannot always say -
sometimes I can't
express...
this
jumble of words
tumbled in a
tumbril
waiting to be
executed
won't walk up the steps
won't set themselves down to be
guillotined into
neat sentences.
It's not that I don't -
it's just -
they're
meaningful, really
as full of meaning
as veins are full of
blood
but
it takes a cut to
spill them
and
flesh shrinks
from the
blade.
If you asked a question
like a
hypodermic needle
I might
haemorrhage
words enough
to
transfuse a thousand
awkward silences;
yet, until then
coherence is not.
I'm sorry.