i want you to read with your eyes closed.
i want your senses to play musical chairs and have sight be the one left standing, walking away alone when the music stops.
allow the letters and syllables and lines on the pages to be nonsensical to you as they are felt and not merely seen.
let your fingertips dance over the smoothness of the words, barely caressing them as you pull them in closer to you.
grip them harshly, devour them and savour them.
decimate them with your lust for what they harbour.
feel how they squirm under the intensity of your scrutiny and discovery.
revel in that feeling.
i want you to see the words with the depth of so much more than simple,deceptive sight.
feel the words, don’t interpret them with intellect.
taste the bitterness of them rise up in your throat as you try to swallow them down and make them disappear when they’re too much.
bask in the discomfort they show you as they rip away where you hide.
be terrified of their depth, and their height, and leap into them anyways.
relish the sweetness of them as your tongue embraces their offerings to your soul.
watch goosebumps appear on your flesh as their libidinous morsels send shivers down your spine.
i want you to be deafened by the pounding of your heartbeat as the words make you want to turn and run, uncertain if you want to leave them behind you or cleave to them and hold on for dear life.
i want anger and beauty and pain and brilliance to course through your veins.
ink, the blood of your syllabic circulatory system.