Friday, June 06, 2008

Impaired Voices

Mute bedtime stories
Run in families
Thicker than liquor…

They have all played truant
At mealtimes
Gushing unfinished suppers of shame
On frozen floors…

Unuttered verbs of guilt
Crashing on impaired voices
Rushing to hide behind hermetically fastened

He who enjoys receiving bliss from agony
Spilling sighs over into undefended hearts
Through unspoken dim passages
Is not to blame more that those
Who get addicted to blue moors….

But, continue, shall I not…
My critique will not be helpful
For I fail to sympathize with
Domesticated Cinderellas
Making helpless empathetic choices….

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