When the word wants to be a thing

I'm at another impasse with the making, having discovered something that worked (pinning the sewing patterns together so that they formed words and phrases) and perhaps reaching my limit with it. Really, though, I know there's more potential there and it's my inability to draw it out. But is there a language in the sewing patterns that speaks specifically to poetry? I know there's a language there; that of cutting and placing and stitching; and arrows and lines both solid and dashed, and darts, and hems. I can't seem to draw out my own language in a way that is also intrinsic to the paper. It seems so forced now.

Story: the person acting on the patterns is revealing and hiding meaning by sewing upon the words printed on the patterns. Do they:
a) create specific words on purpose
b) create words by chance
c) don't create words, but partially or completely obscure entire sections except a few words.
d) bunch up the paper in order

Why is this different -- it's more out of my control; using a medium to act upon the patterns vs. exerting complete control with pins or even hand stitching. but if you don't create specific words, and just have random
letters peeking through it means nothing. Or maybe it gives the illusion of meaning (or loaded meaning b/c of the implications of covering it up.)

You could sew everything BUT some words so you in fact have a fabric formed of the paper and thread. Buy lots of thread tomorrow.