Words fall away sometimes. I don't know. They don't always have the escape route, sometimes they get blocked, and lost. Not like thoughts, thoughts are smoky anyway, they fill any container, they don't escape, they just drift about. They find ways, paths. Not words, words are solid, with shapes and texture, they get confused, lost, stuck. They are like a flock of something, they flow in masses, trying to find a way to escape, any little hole or bottle neck. They are mute, they are thoughtless and stupid. They gush and know no order, the jam all the fissures with their desire to get out. Words are the sheep, the flocks which get lost in some blind alley. They get frightened and hide away, forcing themselves further into some dark corner. Sometimes even after we excavate them, they die from neglect or fear or whatever ailments that suits their temperament.