The words form, solid and buoyant. A rusty chrome.
I cradle the words and lay them down into a thick woven fabric.
They deserve to be tied up with in a bow like a present.
They hop up and climb into a sewer tube.
They run round thinking about the sun.
They try to remember what buttons are made of. Plastic or wood?
Thousands of peasants die and fall into the sewers.
The words feast on the corpses and grow strength.
They rocket into the atmosphere and shatter the stratosphere.
Glass falls on tongues like snow and lacerate the digestive tracts.
Are you sitting down?
Because you must know
Cabinets are falling
Down onto your face
Ending your face
Facing the cabinet
Gracefully destroying your head
Hitting you in the skull
Inside your skull
Jabbing into your important brain parts
Killing your brain cells
Lodged into your cerebral cortex
Mashing up your brain folds
Nesting behind your eyes
Opening up your eyes
Poking through your iris
Quartz shards in your brain
Ramming through the spinal cord
Smushing up your think holes
Titting up your thoughts
Where is the cabinet
Xenolith in your mind
Yes you will be dead
Zzzzzzzzz sleep now