There is only one word, split into infinity.
words are impossible little creatures. they won’t come when you call or call when you come. they march out of step and sing out of tune. they bump against other words and get tangled in wire. they stray from the crowd and get lost in the woods. they stumble over thoughts and spill off the page.
From Letisia Cruz (submitted 2 months ago)
Writing
"They hide under the bed, smoke cigarettes in the bathroom..." Sometimes I do these things also. But our timing never coincides. I guess timing is everything.
Anyway, I enjoyed reading your words. 3 and 5 are my favorites.