tarshaan

words
taste strange shapes
echoing they flee
shriek laughter
shed apostrophes
like clothes
trampling through the empty halls
in search of swimming pools and night
until
exhausted
they seek home

this is not their home.
these markings, they
make no sense
non sense
nonsense

or maybe it's
just me.


(Why, yes, I do have writer's block again. Damn it.)