The ceiling fan is deafening
and my vision is as unfocused as your appeal
both spearing forward in fierce concentration
only to phase into vagueness, midway to their destination
As you continue to speak
my eyes continue to blur the scene
and I hear a series of moods, rather than words:
Anger... Anger... Injury.
Injustice, Pleading.
Righteousness. Vulnerab-- Demanding.
Reason... Reason... Reasoning.
I sit this way, fuzzing out your face
and decide it's effective, attending to your aura
selfishly shielding myself from the specificity of your language
but listening, intently listening, to your atmosphere
ringing out against the drone of that **** incessant ceiling fan.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
The ceiling fan is deafening
and my vision is as unfocused as your appeal
both spearing forward in fierce concentration
only to phase into vagueness, midway to their destination
As you continue to speak
my eyes continue to blur the scene
and I hear a series of moods, rather than words:
Anger... Anger... Injury.
Injustice, Pleading.
Righteousness. Vulnerab-- Demanding.
Reason... Reason... Reasoning.
I sit this way, fuzzing out your face
and decide it's effective, attending to your aura
selfishly shielding myself from the specificity of your language
but listening, intently listening, to your atmosphere
ringing out against the drone of that **** incessant ceiling fan.
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