Rather, they are a raucous crowd:
unruly soccer fans, kicking,
clawing, screaming at one another,
clamoring for my attention,
desperate to be noticed.
I hear them strangling now,
words congealing on the page,
stagnant as a blood clot.
Scabbing over, they will harden.
The leftovers wait to be picked off,
wait, impatiently, for their reprieve.