Give her the floor, to speak
What say you,
me?
"I was never incapable.
What I was was angry
What I was was affected
My protest was received with the same energy
As the offense:
You do not see"
And today, what shall I use?
Hers, or mine?
She must have the floor for this,
She must have voice and stage
Even so, I will outgrow her pain.
The blow sent teeth flying and I can't stop thinking
About white pellets careening in front of my face.
There's something mesmerizing about violence.
It could have been worse, yes.
But it was enough
Enough to make her fall away from her body for a moment
Not because she didn't feel ownership,
But because she felt offended by the loss
Because she felt threatened and upset by how easily pieces of it could be taken away
I don't know,
There's something mesmerizing about violence
I can admit that sometimes,
What I need is parental guidance.
Is that what prayer is?
I wouldn't trust this with anyone who didn't know all paths
Who wasn't all good, all pure
How close to me before I mess it up though?
Free will as blessing and curse.
I can admit that I've consulted and heard you and chosen my way.
Was it the relationship or the decision as gift?
I can admit that so so much has changed now,
But I still want to come
Relationship as blessing, choice as consequence and gesture.
I can admit that in one reading,
I never had what I needed,
In another, I always did.
My life, in sum, becomes the gesture.
I keep loving people
Who are mysterious to themselves.
Is that the appeal, that we learn together?
I'm not sure.
Is it mysterious,
Or censored?
If the latter,
I may be doomed.
If the former, why?
I will eat your audacity with rice
It's different to another kind I've seen
With absolutely no achievement
Behind its pride
Your stance is high and strong
Based on the pain
Of seeing your talent
Bleed from your fingers
And being asked
How dare you?!
So much so that you question
If you should
But the blood demands it
Even if humans
Would have you killed
Silence will kill you anyway.
