This Is What Happens When I Write Down The First Thing That Comes To My Head

They'll disappear
just like the ink you bought
for fifty cents when you were eleven.
It will never be as different
as it was then. 
Magicians like liars
they hide the truth
and stick to the roof of your mouth
like peanut butter and force
you to shoulder the sky like Atlas. 
They'll disappear
faster than you can say,
"Dad, come back," and
slower than your sister's
deterioration in the hospital bed.
We are not the words that people think
because words vanish through the years,
15,000 since 1950 and replaced by others
that fill humanity with 'ridiculous' and
'uneducated.'
Cell phones in hand telling you
when God's awake and when it's ok
to buy a lottery ticket. 
Spoiler: You won't win.
Fate plays favorites. 
Music loses tune,
it was the only thing you'll love.
Believe me when I say,
it's as noble a cause as any.
Shut your ears with a riptide,
you can't hear when you're unsure
of which was is up and which is down.
Build the words you know
like a tower in your head. 
Don't let fear of potential
wrong corners and street names
bring you from the brink of
extraordinary flying. 
You'll be unseen in the clouds,
just as you were on the ground
because even though they'll stab you
like Caesar or shoot you down like Gandhi,
there is never anything to see.
So all those bricks and robots and
lovelovelovelovelovelove
means nothing to the waves in Costa Rica.
Means nothing to the hills in Iceland.
Means nothing to the makeup that is
blown off when the wind swirls. 
A flurry of misspelled words.
They'll disappear
like alcohol down and addict's throat
like the words you want to say,
"I love you."
Gone in a moment that you
never remembered as a child
and almost forgotten in the moment
as a 17 year old. 
Because no matter all the words
they use against you,
like an army sent just for the purpose
of making you trip,
words do not exist.