words that stare * 6/27/14

I sometimes write with words that stare back, that see fences, yet seem to share from beyond my wit and boundaries. I feel orphaned from beyond the say, appear too weak for the labyrinth of conversation. People often respond to me as if I were talking to myself, sifting through what was meant, then passed the remains on to them. Well, what did you hear? What if a sequence of falling verbal dominoes, spilled out across the unsaid rules of speech? How do they come by you? People did not teach me what to do. They talked in a bafflement of red flags. I expect words to come out of me, alive, like animals in my inner world. But these words that stare, and stare back, I don't know them. I seem to shake them out of me from the mixture of the fallen dominoes and stalwart red flags, for a simpler life. It is like a concretized amnesia swirling in a trace gravity but yet, evaporative when brought to words. If people take truth from what I say, they do not tell how that is done. But these words leave me, stark, bent upright, unembellished, as words that stare . . .