I want to hit you with my word-stick
It’s for your own good you know.
The bruises will soon fade
But not the memories
I want you to fly my words like a kite
Tie string to them and run
Through the sunny meadows
Watch them soar
I want to mash my words up with fruit
Feed them to children
You are what you eat
Be fruitful
I want people to horde my words
Lock them in a vault
Keep them in a secret place
Treasure them
I want my words to terrorise you
Blow up in your face
And leave you scarred
For life
I want my words to touch you inappropriately
Work their way up your leg like a spider
Make you jump up from your seat
And scream
I want my words to hunt you down
Creep up on you in lifes long grasses
And when you think you’re safe
Devour you
I want to sculpt my words in marble
Make noble statues out of them
Stand them on columns
Like Lookouts
I want my words to take you from behind
In a make you go blind
Kind of a way
Everyday
I want to make words with hooks on,
that get stuck on your clothes.
And when you pick them off at home,
I want you to remember me
I want my words to call you up at 4 am
To catch you when you are sleepy
And the words may be drunk
But they love you.
I want to stir my words up
Springtime is here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem