Orator, where might you be?
I am at a loss for words
I need you to do my speaking without leaking out my hidden privacy
Without touching down upon matters of the skin
All of us are sinners somewhere along our busy little roads
Birds
Bees
Flowers, trees
Antelopes
Horny toads
These walls are closing in on me
Some force outside me is peering in
Something out there can see me and I don\'t give a Tinkers fuck
(Although Tinkers are relatively inexpensive these days)
Let them watch me being made love to by the silence
Let them watch me fornicate and prance
Let them taste the salt that drips off my brow madly just after I dance the final dance
They will love what they see
They will masturbate
They will learn how to verbalize, how to orate all of their feedback
Tell me where I am overdone
Tell me where I lack character or poise
Listening in through the door of my domain where I block with an echo all of the noise that can be heard out there on the savage streets
Where magnitude meets malnourishment and pragmatism meets posterior flex
Out there, where I can hear the chant that ripples through concrete hallways
From hexes and hoaxes carried and cast out
Where the emptiness has amassed where abundance once thrived in plentitude
It is now but a dirty, rude little picture out there
How could anyone be unaware of what is going on?
Orator, please step forward..
My will to speak is gone...
1-30-2012