I watched a grainy film once,
through blurs of a stolen light,
words dropped like crumbs.
I picked them all up,
kept them safe
tucked away in my mind,
until I had the puzzle pieces
to give them back their shape.

years later, I etched
a number on my hand.
not for him,
but for the girl,
who mimicked the words
before knowing what they meant.

now I wear his language
like a second skin,
slightly flushed
from the heartbeat beneath —
pulsing with all
once chased,
and incomplete.

I didn’t know it then,
how far that ship would sail —
how it would anchor me,
then leave behind a trail
to places only dreamed,
with a way back for when I was ready.
I didn’t know it then,
how it would lead me
to chart entire lives
into maps of unfolding,
guided by a compass of poetry —
all of it
once borrowed
from a screen.

I hide in words — tucking under their shade;
Dressing letters up with sequins and baubles.
Now showering in limelit obfuscation.
Makes it seem as if I am really there:

Dressing letters up with sequins and baubles
Blinding myself in the flashing of their colours;
Makes it seem as if I am really there
Amidst flowered touchless abstraction.

I blind myself in the flashing of their colours.
Submerged in repetition, my thumb drowns
Amidst flowered touchless abstraction,
Swirling in whirlpool ******* me underneath:

Submerged in repetition, my thumb drowns
Now showering in limelit obfuscation,
Swirling in whirlpool ******* me underneath.
I hide in words — tucking under their shade.

When nature's inhalation
whips up storms,
  We are set in stone monoliths.

Carefully carved intricate marks
decorate our walls; unfinished
since we must finish etching them
   Together.

Heed lightning cracks its
own violent tremor into
   Our stone walls.

Still! Winds will tear and maul
rains will erupt and slaughter
then give way to bright sky
   and deadly clear horizons;

reflecting back to us
our own trailing ripple
   of increasingly clear syllables.

Each etched now in our walls.
Mother printed the first
symbol, a delicate addition
first of many, now forming
sprawling racing lines.
Strung together, from the
    inside.

And the monoliths stand tall
and we bare storm
   and choose together.

Our selves float and drift on

an ocean of memory,
lives that come before us

In the absolute language between
the poem on your lips and
the blue of the wave
you are the music of silence  
only echo of infinity
the unlikely root of words

I have a word on my tongue and funny enough it sounds like ton mixed with tan, as in tongue

How do you spell it?
Are there any letters left,
or ways to encourage pronunciation like I intend

Like tahn of meanings withheld for now
Or taan, the power within
From the mouth
then someone's mind,
then mine.
Or I could use other letters and make another word.
tohn, taun, toan, or T͓a̴ňᶰ
I kind've even want to play with new and other characters/letters and words that make more cents
scents
or sense
Uck, English is strangely

Outside of language structuring and more into the rhetoric of philosophy;
Logos, within the frame of reference of 2nd person perspective, corresponds to our inner monologues. The mind's speech.

1st person - Perceiver - Person
2nd person - Perception - Place
3rd person - The Perceived - Thing

So whereas from the 1st person perspective, thought is merely an attribute of perception - 2nd person sees the mind as a more physical place.
A liminal space between the material & immaterial.
Therein, thought which is the inner monologue can be offered body. You can personify thought as a whole, personify thoughts in sets, or in singulars. So 3rd person would be thought which examines or experiences itself.