I like quoting movies-
I sometimes forget that the world
Isn’t privy to my inner dialogue;
If the world could hear my thoughts,
it would get lost, buried,
under the running, swirling stampede of thoughts.
They mill around, mulling over words
why is it so much fun to say slowly?
And the paradox that dictionaries are.
They mature, until they taste remotely like
peppermint tea that has brewed for too long,
then kind of tumble out at odd moments.
I really, really, really hate oatmeal
Anything described with “mushy”
doesn’t sit well with me or my stomach.
Neither do bridges.
They make me queasy and scared.