i live in a world of words
where the wholeness of all things
is coloured by the touch of thoughts
portrayed in lines of inks

every sound’s a typist’s stroke
every smell the waft of toner warm
and as each experience assembles
stanzas texturize its very form

each sight drips with punctuation
grammar forms the waves of light
pencil scribbles equate with breathing
and spraypaint tags on every fight

memories are in italics
and the future is in bold
all caps are for the present
even when life seems on hold

i live in a world of words
with letter coatings, all things blessed
and every surface is completely naked
unless clothed modestly in text