fauxchiron

My thoughts used to be so busy

Cloudy with words

They are still as packed now,

but I can’t seem to decipher

They are all over my body

Like the hair and the nail,

They keep on growing

No matter how many times 

I cut them

And I want to let them grow

And grow

So long that you can’t see my skin

Or my eyes

So I don’t have to explain anymore

So that my heart is upon my sleeve

Words

What good are they for?