The jabs last night drew blood. Your words weren’t what I heard. “I’ll make room on the couch, and draw beads on their meanings.” Fog of words. Where to take aim? The fog of words is always distracting, it’s always digressing. It gets confusing mistaking hits for gains. Fighting is a team sport. Dissolve yourself into one. Give up control, swing in the air, and dream of people who care. Fog of words is suffocating. Like carbon monoxide, it’s slow and sleepy. You may want to die but you’ll awake to realize you drove it all away. A heavy air hangs inside and makes it hard to move. Stomach cramps, tears and cries for those who won’t break loose. A fog of words that no one’s heard is barely worth the breath. Which one’s better? Which one’s worse? They’re indistinguishable at best. And we decide the rest cause there’s a fog of words with each breath. Take cover and get rest. I can see much more clearly from here cause I’m high up on the hill. There’s nowhere to go, as far as the eye can see, we’re pinned down by the enormity. Fog of words, all encompassing. Fog of words is fickle and fleeting, a life of its own, arrival unknown, just stay put and wait for the fog of words.