Bastard Words

The words beg, haunt incessantly push to be heard -Dripping forth like a venom- too vile- about to kill it's own master Poisonous desecrator The scream, they push- I offered refusal and they gathered together a great army to slay me, ME! Their owner, their creator- their God! Soulless bastards each and every one of them No peace- not ever Sometimes they will wake me in a cold tremor Pushing to remember (fu**ing) with me They then concede into dark corners waiting... waiting... Oh! how those bastard words love to trick me! In conversation they allude me- just barely out of reach daring me- daring- as I spatter on like a fool! Then finally when sleep decides to come- (oh sweet sleep)- They crowd, screaming, jumping all over my brain! Daring me- but the body says no. They love to scream, those little elusive bastard words For days and weeks I can search behind every rock or blade of grass They are as free as any bird- at times they take to flights a fancy- Other times they are as the wily fox- just never... can- quite reach- them. Those bastard words never come when I call to them- begging, crying, pleading with them- driving me to the ragged edges of sanity- but those words, always around the next corner- or down the road And when- finally I give up- (I swear I heard them smirk) they breech the threshold - offering themselves Those little bastard words.