Prose Poem

Scrittura Wednesday Prose Poem Prompt: The Body of Language

Gnawing the marrow from the bones of an idea, words dry out and splinter with an internal, infernal wind, cracking teeth as they emerge. The thought ruminated long in gestation; it was in the blood, deep, pulsating in ribosomal fashion, a hidden messenger. Now, in a grand eruption, it comes out; having run its collision course…