Coherence is not -
I cannot always say -
sometimes I can't express...

this jumble of words
tumbled in a tumbril
waiting to be executed
won't walk up the steps
won't set themselves down to be
guillotined into
neat sentences.

It's not that I don't -
it's just -
they're meaningful, really
as full of meaning
as veins are full of blood
but
it takes a cut to spill them
and flesh shrinks
from the blade.

If you asked a question
like a hypodermic needle
I might haemorrhage
words enough
to transfuse a thousand
awkward silences;

yet, until then
coherence is not.

I'm sorry.