Say It and Die

It dreams in text, this mind.
It dreams us trapped in blocks
Of inked print, black on white.

It reads too much, this flesh.
It feeds mind to its mind.
It eats us, fuel for thoughts,

‘Til we come out its ears,
Spark from touch, clot all dreams,
And fill its hours with us.

It dreams in text, this mind,
Text it can’t read in dreams,
And the wind turns our leaves.