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Mental floss, a string of words,
running through my head.
No matter, the word choice,
it will run through this porous,
brain as if salt were present.
I cannot control the blandness
of the words written,
and I watch them swirl
into the old mind of an uncontrollable
muse. Sorry to say but the mind is mine.

See more of Randall Munroe's work at xkcd.com - This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License,

It's a knotty mess
of rope or line.
Don't call it naughty
or a large twine
for it's a rope.
not a fishing line.

A piece of string,
a length of twine,
a skank of thread,
a woven line.
A stitch or two
a time to bind,
a soul, yours
to
a soul mine.

I feel nervous,
like I did at my first dance,
where a shy country boy,
dreamed of a romance.
A romance, oh so rosy,
there was never a chance,
to do anything other
than to dance every dance.

Where are the words,
which run to be free,
as they do their best
to escape and elude me.
I will let my mind go,
perhaps they will return,
for at the moment
of my minds lividity.

I'll show you the way,
for it is up to we,
and to you I say,
Yes, Yes, Oui, Oui.

If I say, "I have read,"
it sounds like head,
or I will read,
sounds like deed
or perhaps a reed.
By adding a "Y",
the word becomes ready
and is pronounced like "Betty."
It does not mean I've read,
more like I'm ready to read.
Funny this English language is.

If I say retreat
or turn back.
Try to release,
letting it go
or redo,
do it again
and repeat,
do it once more
or reword,
supply a new word.
How about reduce"?
making it smaller
or use resize.
I like remain,
staying here
or remaining.
A different meaning,
the word result.
How something did end.
Then remember,
capturing an event.
Relive,
to live once more
or use resurface,
to change a cabinet
or floor.
Review,
to see it again
or resow,
spreading more seed,
or replant
a new deed.

Never make passes
at girls who wear glasses.
I dated a girl.
A girl who wore glasses.
She was a beauty
and she wore glasses.
I tried to give her a kiss.
She tried to do the same.
Raising her head,
as I dropped mine,
my nose struck the bridge
of her glasses,
making a loud noise,
which woke the masses.
This is why you
never make passes
at girls who
wear glasses.

I will see you again,
as our Souls are now linked,
by sinew, muscle, bone
and on paper with ink.
Another story of lost love,
is not what you think,
for it will pass all of time
through life, as I sink,
into the sorrow of missing
you and move to the brink,
for my love will live on
faster than you can blink.

If I'm cooking in our kitchen,
there will be no bitchen,
for this space belongs to me.
Don't mess with sauce cooking,
when I am not looking,
no adding salt to my gravy.