When I read your words
I am the negative and positive poles
attracted and repulsed at once.
Your meanings become mixed up in my mind,
I could define the words, isolated.
But when you put them together
something gets mixed up.
And so your words, they push me away.
And yet, and yet…
It is as if we have our own private syntax
except that I have not learned it yet.
I am lost, eventually
I am lost before very long.
But I know that I can be found…
perhaps it is simply that you have not yet gone far enough…
Would you invite me
into your own private language?
Having given up on meaning
what more could be lost
by giving up on real words entirely?
I would love to dance to the rythmn
of your made-up phonemes,
I would love to wander about the meaning
of your made-up morphemes