words stumbling out of your lips and rest right on my shoulders. the pressure is weighing me down. a new game of literary dodge ball, i avoid your speech like the plague. twisted embellishments, racing towards my lung, to capture my breath, and stow it away in a place i'll search for but forget. little weapons you keep in your brain, and ever so often they become tangible and you throw them out into the air with the intentions of staining pupils and allowing a new soul to realize it's been captured in the clutches of your voice. as if dropping bombs into the water and watching the ripple take affect, words casting the very same ripple throughout my body and sending new vocabulary into the pit of my stomach, which is effecting my speech. i cannot form the words properly, i can no longer delivery them in a manner that could rattle your soul because you have no soul, it's been replaced with a pile of words, doused in flames and waiting for a target.
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