A bag full of words were never enough
To fill the lines of my notebook
I need to know the secrets of stifled laughter
The tears that flee at the brush of a hand
The voices that ring with fervour
And the anger that burnt an entire city bare
These words I have lack in flesh and blood
I’d like to discard them, but
Not even the vultures will seek them
I need a device to pump life into them
To drill their reluctant innards
To scoop their filth and fill them with
An overflowing light.
Light that is smoky like ice gone dry
So cold, that they burn a hole
Through the minds that read them.