HOME | DD

Description

It's all conditional,
isn't it?

Well, I
beg to differ—
but not beg.
Never that.

There is a fury to unspoken word that I can't place.
Language soaks like a sponge, clings like a flea, and wringing thoughts dry
leaves one itching and limp, fruition for the wanting.

Nor any more hapless by being unspoken.
It is sure as it is willed,
out of reach when out of mouth.

[bloom, silence! Bereave no more
and slake my withered, weary throat.]

Oh, that man invented vulgarity to cope with general indifference;
as if time had the skin to flinch, the frailty to bleed.

If punishment be justice, pain must be golden—
one ought to pull his own weight to exist.

Consign him to his rock, then!
Enlist a reason. An uphill battle.

Well, I
guess I exist, since all I do
is push and push.