I don't know if it's any good, but I can't stop doing it. It sounds more melancholy than I feel, but isn't that sort of the point?
I am filled with words and punctuation. If you cut me open, I'd bleed commas and clauses and ellipses.
It drives into me, one great big throbbing, pulsing sentence, bringing me to the edge of a sparkling, sparking orgasm of words.