Picture now,
a man writing on a wall,
in a style of broken feelings,
his manner of speaking,
to the world,
tongue in his hand,
tasting every word.
Is he a man or half a man
should a man
write his own feelings
or keep them hidden inside
his fragile body?
Writing his words with feelings
that move back and forth,
from the joy of love and love lost
with tears of happy feelings,
to tears of pain and hatred of love,
he feels lost; except for the words.
Walking on that fine line,
between love and hate,
with the birth of words
he has fallen in love.
Then you realize,
one is not supposed
to be writing on walls,
it is crime frowned upon
by the world.
Then the man has walked away,
leaving words and feelings;
in the mouth and on the face,
of a once blank wall.
To be continued,
on another wall,
because, he does not know,
his last words, he cannot write;
the end.
© James W. McRight Jr. 2001