Textling #3

Nowadays I spend most of my time lying, by which I mean supine, not telling untruths. I love the ambiguity of language, write in other tongue, not mother tongue – slightly off-side. Pitfalls welcome!

Much of my life is inner. Even at my most tired words matter: I am their plaything. When nothing goes anymore, in zero activity mode (and I mean zero) after over-exertion, I can get stuck in maddening alliteration loops – ska scalp skol skittle skein – skip skirmish scuttle scold – scarecrow – skunk screw school scrofula… Or sink into delirious rhyming schemes – slime lime time thyme mime Keim Reim shine fine furrow filibuster…, and round and round again. There’s no off-switch. When all I want is rest words roll and rock and rumble, skull-under. I see and hear them. I cannot budge but something wondrous is on fire, spits and crackles, and now, as I remember, makes me laugh.

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