I
need to suggest it. But it’s systematic. Never quite definite, but it pokes and
assails. I’ll leave it to an audience. I’ll present its properties. I’ll lash
out at its entitlements.
…those
years bear grievance: too much bacon, too many potatoes, and too many gnats.
Supposing this life, by hectic insanities, needing both psychology and
theology. To cleanse dysfunction. To reunite honor. But something infectious
chases after hormones.
…we
share stories; we converse at length; but I didn’t request reenactments. It
appears as what it impresses. Some sort of sanity. Some sort of chalkboard. Or
plain research.
Maybe
for confrontation, this island of entitled achievers, where it’s mandatory
others feel our contempt. We see it slants. We see it’s composed. We need to
ruffle it more.
Enough
by that trumpet.
It
seemed appropriate. It ran its gambit. And Art showed something critical. As
one once mentioned in actions: I have something that you possess but I do it
through myself. I was slanted. But I admitted to seeing such. While I
pondered with Mary.
I
admire rectitude. I exult imperceptible restraint. However, it leaves us
guessing.
Too
confused about normality. Wondering its boundaries—or its language. Those
unspoken but loud gestures. Those torturous deep scars. This podium this piano
this playful disdain.
As
Art reenacts it—so crucial a feeling—as if to make solid my complaints. To
verify my life. To increase those rigidities. If but to suggest more envelopes.
Those tropes for rooms—walking my hallways—but I need your backstage pass.
Enough
by that trumpet.
I
want to see.
This becomes a start. This becomes a landing-base.
I
have a monster in there. And I see a monster over there. But our monsters are
different. So, there are multiple monsters. Some eat depression. Some eat
people. And some are seeking assistance. This kingdom of monsters. So familiar
and discontent. While one says: I just need to verify that you made it
through hell: I just need your social hot points. A bit sardonic. A bit
resentful. A bit too honest. While monsters gaze off. While monsters reflect
more on internal operations. While some monsters are too nice for comfort.
Other monsters get raw, get loud, or assume a displeasing, discomfiting
disposition. Those likeness monsters. Those clique monsters. Where other
monsters are disparaged. Our congregation monsters. Those elite monsters. While
most monsters are desiring those secret monsters.
I
give it to experience. I give it to an audience. Where most would say: It’s
difficult but workable.
