The miasma is thick with abscess.
I walk through the streets,
Dragged down by the weight of the world in my ears.
Hisses and hymns, ribbons and reeds.
A bird sings,
Down the street and round the corner.
Her friend responds back,
In a curt apology.
The miasma grows even thicker than the fat lady who sings.
How ever then, shall I escape from the sting of Kafka’s ring?
I feel blind.
Ended on a corner with my head in my hands,
Once again.
I can see without seeing;
The clinking of poverty on the pavement next to me.
Shuffles and triads laid bare behind my eyes,
Mixed between the cacophony of real life.
The incessant pulsating of forced feelings,
And of leper sighted beings,
And of smiles between teeth with eyes wide shut.
I hum, and pass gas between my lips.
More pollution for the festering of lies hanging in the air.
No longer than my panic lasts, do I get up and feel around in the dark,
For something concrete to hold on to.
The only thing I see are the lines,
In between the lines.
Only dancing to the rhythm.
The rhythm of the universe.
The only rhyme; those of two pangs against my drums which happen in synchronicity.
The only time; felt between the spaces of two bangs of a shout.
The only feeling; expelled between the lies of a ring and a lout.
I have to find where I’m falling,
Otherwise I might crash out.
I feel like I’m mad.
Gone crazy off the power and the lines.
Does anybody else see what I see?
Does anybody else feel what I feel?
Does anybody else taste the things I taste?
I get up again from the concrete, to continue my pilgrimage.
Down by the water, perhaps that’s where I’ll find refuge.
And down by the water, I happen upon a plucking that I can’t refuse.
Her strums so gentle, a delicate blue.
Her chords so full, a thickness so true.
Her melody so sweet, salivation ensued.
I sit to stare and watch. Intensity rivaled by the fates.
I dare not glance at the man holding her.
I don’t want to intrude any more than I already take.
Put a dagger to my heart.
Twist it and make my face contort, fall apart.
Maybe I should just throw caution to the wind,
And dive in head first,
Into my ecstasy within.
Let my mask drop.
Let my mask crack.
Just a little bit,
Maybe only for a minute.
Scream out in pleasure,
If only to ease the pain.
The duo in front of me smile, their play coming to a close.
I smile back.
“It was great” I tweet their way,
Down the tile and around their amplifier,
Her man responds back,
In a curt formal form of thanks.
How thick can the miasma be?
Maybe I should clean the gunk out from between my ears,
That way I’d finally be able to see crystal clear.