Over.
Overt.
Overtones.

The jumble of letters
Came suddenly
From a mindset
Of rigidity.

I was never set on
Rhyme and
Syllabic sequences,
Too square.

There were quests
For more circular edges,
Greater freedom;

A chance to breathe.

But look where it got us...
Back to the overtly human,

Pushing the boundaries
Until letters are no more
A sequence,
But a tool.

Something to live for,
Something to be ruled by,
Something...

To Hold On To.

Capitalise,
Minimalise,
Categorise,
Monopolise,

We are all subordinate
To Words:
As they flash in our minds,
Bombard our sights,
Infiltrate eardrums.

Under siege.

As they find a new pattern:
Battle-like in approach,
But gradually softening
To a thought-provoking,
Sweet novella;

Kind on the heart
And head,
Yet heavy on the eyelids.

Strangely subjected
To sin.
Fabricated,
Indulgent,
Self-righteous
Sin.

Who said
Words were Safe -
And pious?

God-fearingly devilish,
Wearing hearts on sleeves.
No remorse.

I'd say I was clinically prone
To Words.

Enrapturing,
Capturing,
Snaring,
Daring.

Emanating from the mind,
Flowing in fingertips,
Twisting heartstrings,
Triggering brainwaves -

I'm divinely prone to words

As they leak to
And from my
Infected page.

The meanings are
A contagious disease,
Which cannot be contained.

I'm helplessing craving
These lines on my page.

Though ultimately
I'm only:

Hum.
Human.
Humane.