My favorite game

Sweating, summer succulence is playing a game with me. Did I create this music or did it create me, make me who I am (not today) but right now? Txt message interrupted. Neglected while I uncover the words, remove some gym socks, broken pens, and half-filled notebooks, until my word is naked, ready to be bathed (in)visible ink. The rest hide themselves in books and bury their heads, vain enough to think they're too beautiful to be just like the rest. Bolder, they say. Italics. Anything else but normality. It's okay. Don't be afraid of something simple, I say. Jagged is comprehensible precisely because of smooth. Conjoined twins. thoracopagus, just like me. Indivisible, one lexicon under God, with dictionary and thesaurus for all. Yes, let's pledge mindlessly. Throw out the meaning but retain the words and tell me how it remains beautiful to you, this noose holding onto the body after the door has dropped. My head is music, words, and meaning most of all. My favorite game.