Where are the words?

Stuck, wedged in facts
Squeezed deep in newspaper.
Dancing in well-thumbed books,
Fat and happy.
Louche on glossy paper,
Aching to be loved.
Basking, lit by a hazy glow,
Warmed by technology.
Shouting,
Self important
On train cards, bus shelters.
Capital actions, stamping sans serif feet.
Tattooed into the self,
A hard, black reminder.

Words.
They’re everywhere,
Apart my brain.
They’re misbehaving.
Wriggling through the fingers
Of my poetry again.

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