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My words, they are like a whirlwind, uncontrollable and so capricious. Some of them i must find a way to keep them at bay, otherwise...they'll hurt someone for they are so sharp and cold at times and at others they're as if they were bathed in honey and sprinkled with nut bits, they actually feel very springy... and I miss those ones, specially when they need to be written. So I just let myself go, I let myself be drowned by them and I summerge and become their slave. They are the body of the imagination, hopeful, dull and fascinating. I guess they are the right combination as nothing should be uniformed, but rather a little of everything here and there to make and construct a perfect form.  These words, those words, palpitating in my head, begging to be set free drill my soul and as soon as I release them, a combination of satisfaction and sadness invade my senses, simply because they shape up a dream, and in that moment they become real, they become an alternate reality of wh...