Thursday, June 11, 2009

Processing .1

I am behind my wall
The angered think they see me
They cannot touch me
Not with their red wounded hands

Phooshing air moves with
A paddle, a wooden spoon, a yardstick
Anger is a noise
My wall is dense, muffling

I watch from inside
Wasn’t I cute once
Anger is black, red forgetfulness
I am the Cause
I am my own fault


So small so far away
A worm, a bug of fear
Tickles layers of skin
Deep in the shadows I lurk
I dive into metal self

Anger surprises
Fear repels
Why should I respond
Can song words change them
Change the battering

Words from the outside become noise

No answer
Light flickers but not
Like sun through shiny leaves
Light shrinks
Small hole, mouse versus viper


I can be still so still
Invisible to myself
Still present to the wounded wounders

The strap, the yelling
Be still, be small
Make it go away


Can happiness be found in black?

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