I don’t understand the question.
Words are garbled to me,
going in and coming out.
Twice yesterday, I went to speak,
and words that I hadn’t meant to say
came out instead.
When I’m speaking, it as if
my words aren’t my own.
Sometimes, I go to speak and words
that are best left behind a filter
of some sort come out unbidden,
as if they were lying in wait.
As I say them, I try to push them back in,
try to stop the flow coming
from my mouth, try to quickly
build the barrier up again.
It is the inside voice
that we usually keep hidden.
I struggle to make sense of them,
these shapes that make letters,
those letters forming words.
I used to know them so well,
we used to be on good terms.
We got along famously,
wrote together, spoke together,
told stories together,
these words and I.
Now I wonder if I will
ever know them
that well again.