I never lost my words but my heart was snuffed out like a flickering light
A man can know every word in every book
But if his soul holds no fire, his heart no pain, and no joy wells up in his chest, what will they mean? You will not see them or feel them without the tears on the pages.
You will be blind. His words are empty as he is.
A man who can barely write his own name, but feels the fire with every part of his being, his words you will feel. Jumbled and off balance the fire beneath the pages will alight and bring them unto you and burn them to your very being. His simple broken words will move you as you have never been moved.
Because he has what the man before him does not.
And that is what was taken from me.
And I can write in simple words or the words of a learned man but it don’t matter.
The fire is in my soul again.
It will burn me.
I will let it burn all the way to the outside
Simple words or shit fucking cuss words or words of the elite. It don’t much matter the tongue I choose to converse in.
Because again it is mine.
And mine it will fucking stay.
And you will not take the heart of my words again.
Laughs and Lobotomies 