If a bird is rustling away,
in a man’s gutter,
racing to finish it’s nest before the storm,
if a grass blade flicks back dew into the air after being stepped on,
if a car rolls it’s wheel with a nail in it, percussing down the road,
or a child tugs at their mothers dress, unable to speak,
but longing for a suckle,
I hear, see and feel it all, so much at once.
Of the hardest thing to have learned,
is to muffle out this influx of stimuli,
only to relearn how to open it’s floodgates.
I unlearn when ugly is the streaming of happening,
I relearn, when I need to write it all for you to know.
The sight of stringing along a man,
cowardly taking material from him,
in exchange for the faint notion of a proxy security,
is the hardest thing to attempt to un-see,
and yet the most etched image in my mind.
does not give you the right to consume souls.