They had faces and bodies when I was young, and they were rare - Maybe once a year, a joke would be ruined by a walking sneer, my unselfconscious laughter curdled by their pitiless scorn. But, young and sure, I'd bounce along, leave them forgotten, and look for the good.
Blessed to expect that people were kind, I unshackled them, disembodied the derision, unhitched them from reasoning, living beings
Left them free to gather in geometric clusters lurking on the edge of sight like burning after-images of a cruel sun
Wordless, sightless, lifeless empty, ******* spaces glimpsed with a shudder on the best days -
gathered in consumptive clouds on the worst. Unseen by my companions they eat my ability to explain or expel them.
They are there if I acknowledge them or not and in time they make a nothing out of everything.