Love needs neither to exchange nor not to exchange words.

We take it as obvious that people are people.

'Yeah we hooked up but it was just that one time.'

Words on whose behalf we pressure 'we' pressures other words to stay in line.

(You two, you three, yall…)

'I didn't realize you two knew each other.'

Words as friends, enemies, followers, hangers-on, with affinities true or assumed.

Words whose marriages are those of convenience alone.

Words on whose behalf we pressure other words to stay in line. Words who have been pressed into our schemes.

Words who bear false witness.

Families of words, with their histories, and their patterns, too old to change.

Language as an occupying population, speakers whose words convict them as loyalists.

Language as a big noisy party you show up late to.

Words who are happy to help and words who are under-sung.

Celebrity words. Words we want nothing to do with.

Words we will stand with, words everyone wants to be seen with.

Roving gangs of words.

Not the other, rather no other—regardless of who's around.

'Even ending in the sense of disappearing can still be modified according to the kind of being of the being. The rain is at an end, that is, it has disappeared. The bread is at an end, that is, used up, no longer available as something at hand.'