Words, they are my dialect. Do not give me a direct objective noun, if you lack subjective substances, hitting me indirectly. For each adjective, an objective. For each conjunction, a subordinate sentence. For each sentence, one word. For each word, an obstacle that the mind unlocks. (Caption..) (Read Caption...) Speaking of words, today I am going to speak a hundred of them, today I will speak without you in them. I want those words to speak, to shut up, today those words have more spells than Salem. When you hear them, you will never forget. It will be like a curse. Speaking of words, today they will speak with their eyes, about love, about leaving. With the pulse, today they will speak without speaking, they can be mine and they can be yours. I make words, mine. I make these lines, ours. I make these verses a new prose. Speaking of words, I want to leave you without them. I want you to hit the verses and stumble over the lyrics. Speaking of words, I want that in their absence, the loudest scream that hides their ailments can be heard. I don't want to make you think and I don't want to make you write. I want to make you note, without having to denote the lack that a final point makes. Speaking of words, shutting up in verbs. If you don't want to understand, what good are acts and proverbs? Speaking of words, it is easy to speak, they say. But choose the wrong words and see if they match. Speaking of words, they are not yours. They are mine. Who are you to put them in lines? Speaking of words, they were meant to hurt. Not to hurt, to learn. Speaking of words, who called it a curse word, when in fact it is nothing more than a dirty thought? A curse word should be huge, sublime, like when I shout your name. Speaking of words, I want to speak them without thinking. One day I weigh them, the next they weigh me down. And speaking of regret, my shoulders hurt with the weight of the word in my hand. Today the dictionary is my elder. Silencing me every rhyme, the word is my fate. And speaking of a word, open it. Each syllable tones the stanza that remains. For each past tense, a perfect one. For each pronoun, an achievement. Speaking of words, I looked for it in the dictionary and discovered a sucker in that time zone, looking for an ordinary, unnecessary scenario, for answers that, to her eyes, nothing is a match. Speaking of words, they are my dialect. Do not give me a direct objective noun, if you lack subjective substances, hitting me indirectly. For each adjective, an objective. For each conjunction, a subordinate sentence. For each sentence, one word. For each word, an obstacle that the mind unlocks. ⠀
