i refuse to live in the real world
i choose to retreat into my own world
i want to lounge between my words
hide behind them
i want to squeeze myself between letters
tuck myself into envelopes
wrap myself in language
in it’s precision and articulation
in it’s vagueness and incoherence
in the real world i can not breathe
without having hurt someone
my nails grow sharp as knives
i am either only a villain
or a breathless saint
on the page i have infinite dimensions
it promises me a lifetime of
insatiable curiosity
novelty danger tragedy
i demand, from paper and language
from enemies and muses,
sleepless nights of fascinating thought
