He said He touched chat
He said He didn’t mean to
But the words came out in a fluorescent dribble
He said He felt his words often came out like vomit
Leaving people to fish for chunks of meaning afterwards
He said never mind a lot
He said He didn’t mind
Was indifferent
He said it won’t be as bad as you are making out
Things never are, it’s just the way
He said imagine a ceramic surface
And an orange towel
Chat to me about how…
He said language is a real pain for me
Emails
I wish I was a monument
To that chat we had about Shelley
‘Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desert’
He spoke
He slurred his words
He began to dribble saliva from each corner of his mouth
He began chewing on his words
As though his mouth were full
The sound of swilled marbles
His teeth clattered around each sentence
His mouth gave way to three small sculptures
Each of stone or pebble
And each in the shape of a limbless torso aside from one
Which was an egg
On one side printed yes
On the other no
Language is a problem for me
He hung up
He said in the age of opinion
He said I rounded its edges for you
All language communicates itself
The linguistic being of things
He said I have Chronic Rhinitis
It is worst in the morning
It effects my speech, my words are heavier
He said
I want to write a book
I will call it
Language, Catarrh and Sinusitis
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