Words ensnared within me,
ducking and dodging, hiding in deep dark places inside me
Like squatters, leaving debris and tags marking their territory
Never showing their dusty, grimy, disheveled faces
That are probably radiant with a good scrub
Like an infestation, overwhelming,
frightening, but never quite conquered,
unsure if their presence is good or evil
It’s the uncertainty of their motives and
their next move
Sometimes they almost show themselves
apparition-like, wafting in and out, watching
Phoebe Lulu 