I like words. I like reading, absorbing meanings and innuendos and things into myself like a binging sponge.
Such saturation mangles the words inside me though; they bleed into each other and when I try to squeeze them out, they run together and come out wrong.
One day i will have read enough to write properly. Until then, who knows what garbage I'll produce in the name of expression.
Of course, It could be something that I ate.