Fuck! I must be a dictionary.

It is happening again. I have this desire for words now, but no words come out. Well, yes they do.
Words about circuits
and words about algorithms
and words about chemistry
and words about water
and words about waste
and words about history
and words about politics
and words about babies
and words about friends
but they are all scientific.

No words about feelings or papercuts or the sad smell of bread.
And no, worst of all, no words about color.
No words about passion, only stark definition.
Some gestures perhaps, but even they are deceiving with specific drab meanings.

My wrists are the same width as my hands and that could be nice, because they fit in your hands. But all I can think of as I display them before me is

What homeotic gene was expressed at my raving conception that might give this me this specimen?

I missed it right now. I want words to lack meaning.