Senseless Syntax; or Tax Season on Words

words spill forth,
in a torrential downpour,
drenching the parched mind,
with a deluge of foreign lore

voices rise and fall,
in a cacophony of sound,
jumbling the syntax,
till sense is lost and aimless

colors bleed and blend,
into a psychedelic hue,
letters swirl and dance,
like an iridescent view

phrases spin and twist,
into a dizzying array,
grammar morphs and shapes,
like an amoeba at play