I need fresh words to describe you
Not tainted or tarnished over time
Pale imitations end to end
Clear crystals going opaque
Turing to porous gray stone
We throw them around
Chipping them
Cracking them
Every once and a while finding a glimmer inside
And wasting it on unworthy lips
Heavy words
Dense and inky
Diluted and plastered on every wall
On 60 cent greeting cards
And crinkled bills
All commodities
Extracting each diamond and selling it is if it were glass
Those with leaking hearts forced to drown in silence
Language is a cudgel
We beat each other with it till it breaks
The only incorruptible tones are inside us
Our lungs pulsing
Our blood rushing though our veins
The momentous visions in our minds
A field of broken cudgels
A sea of them
Wooden handles splintered
Our stone heads turing to dust



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