Words

The white paper was tightly bound around the green tasty filling, which was now hanging from my lips. Standing James Dean proud the crisp sound of the safety match across the back of my 501’s becomes joined by the fresh flame. Introducing the two of them, they begin their dangerous dance and in moments I am reduced to a fool with his weapon.

Multiple colored words weave in and out my brain. Some touching, rubbing together, creating friction, starting sentence structure while others lay in mid air, useless to me. I reach out, almost touching the word “FUCK” but it slips between my fingers as it floats past. Soon the words overtake my will and my fingers defect to them, now doing their evil work by typing this nonsense up.

I curl up on the sofa, listening to their arguments of what they want to be, and how they wish to be remembered. These words are crazy, but I listen and wait. “Clouds of smoke”, three of the words that formed a partnership early on are attempting to win over the “Seasons” group, which consists of “summer”, “autumn”, “winter” and “spring”. I don’t know why, but Hubcap” is pissed at this. Grumbling can also be heard from “Texture” as well as “Pigment”; still I am unable to break this hideous code.

I look left, but not at “Right” who is watching me closely, I spot something that may help me with my escape. I ask if I may get a fresh pen from the desk drawer, now to busy with their infighting I am allowed with the wave of the “Hand”. Sweating it, I carefully reach down, taking the jumbo gum eraser from the drawer. Its time to erase these bastards from my mind.