Written by Trixie LoMein on November 9, 2012
Arranged by Ian Aleksander Adams on November 10, 2012
Published in Issue 003
I wish words had thoughts of their own. I would listen and think.
In those words, that they thought, but I think, that those thoughts, would be, mine.
Not really theirs, but I guess, there's no way to know, what, words think.
Unless you were a word... which you are but not.
In the sense that I mean then you'd just be.
A thought: "Which you are?"
In somebody's mind: "But..."
Not mine because I've touched you. And know that you're physically real, and more than just a word, or a name, or a type of noun, but...
Maybe I'm just making all that up so that you seem like more but you are.
Really: "Just a word, that might someday..."
Mean nothing to me.