Clouded Mind
High above the base concerns of my soul,
soars a cloud of thoughts that clouds my mind.
Inside this ephemeral liquid of semiotic form,
meaning fluctuates until finally,
after countless cycles, it crystallises and
imposes itself onto me
in cascading lines of life.
The words I say matter no more.
Their voicelessness is a veil of fog
that refracts my tongue's undulations
into sharp shards of pain
that imbue my body with sadness and joy
and envy and lust.