Sometimes
the words descend on me
like locusts that block out the light,
the deafening screech of their wings
distracting me
as they eat every living leaf leaving
nothing but starkly barren stalks.

And sometimes
the words seep in through the cracks
that the pills weren’t enough to plug.

Either way they’re there
and I try not to take them for granted
or let them slide away uncaptured.

For the truth is,
I don’t know myself apart from them.
They are a piece of what defines me.