Stutter.
Stammer.
Feel the heavy hammer
of vocal chords striking a tune unfamiliar,
a sound so peculiar
you wonder if you made it or heard it;
Perceived? Created? Or perceived creation?
Logos, centros, Derrida was right;
They say to speak, but I claim to write, is the nobler form, the upper way
to show our torn and tattered natures to a shorn and shattered world bereft of those who care,
left with those who share inane, insane, irrational ramblings,
strewn across the cyberspace we like to call home,
to which we must roam and vent our rage in theatrically absurd ways,
like loyal players upon a stage,
seeking the refuge of the page.