Full room,
heavy boxes - emptied.
Small and cramped,
pictures on the
walls, on the
floor, unfinished
works of art,
drawings,
poems, writings, scrawled, unintelligible,
unfinished, unfinished, unfinished!
And his mumbling. God, his
constant mumbling.
Humming. Behind the door.
locked, trapped.
Stuck.
A moment, a
knocking, a
rumbling.
A constant room,
a heavy room -
emptied.

It has tall concrete trees,
mountains, black glass.
This noisy town,
this noisy town.
It has statues from long ago, shining
like moonlight.
And he shaves his head,
his violent head
until it is clean and pure.
He just wants clean, he just wants
pure.
There's makeup and skirts ripped,
long, ankle-length,
statues again, boy/girl
80/20,
music, laughter down the hall.
A silent bedroom,
a pounding on the door,
echoes.
Deep breaths,
deep breaths.
Echoes,
echoes and deep breaths.
It rumbles here,
the echoes, the breaths,
this noise town,
silent.

Blue eyes and
blue sea crash and
explode and
push
against the rocks, the sand.
There's a rumbling,
down below,
cars and drawers,
this monster food, locks, locks, locked.
Opened.
Closed. Unlocked.
Furniture scraping across the wood, the dancers
dance backstage,
in the restaurant,
in the alley,
the church, the pews.
It's the wrong language and
no translator.
It's the car accident, the train crash, plane crash,
shipwreck, ship start.
It's a hand against wood.
It's a gentle sea and
sunlight on
skin.