swimming in text

I dive into paper, swimming through words, seeking meaning. I brush dicta of my hair when I come up for breath. I could easily drown in this world of theories, so little pertinent information. My ears pop when I dive for pearls of wisdom, I wish I would have brought my oyster knife: to stab the rhetoric and bad puns. I feel my eyes burn and close them to the words. I head up for more air, for the sun, the light, freedom from my watery confines. Words that have no levity, no true meaning, maybe it is not I who swims but they, viscosity abound, dripping down the page.