Numbness is so aggravating.
It beats,
Makes one hear things.
It lures desperation from
Astounding aspirations.
It begs with crying voices.
But all turn,
All drum to the writhing sound
Which rattles in the numbing cries.
They stare blankly at the soothing
Screeches which lather deep scars
Upon the throats from which they
Originate.
They tear the skin,
For what is it but paper to the
Fingernails of sound.
To the ripe sharp voice who echoes
With unearthly squeals.
It dances about,
The numbness to say,
It bounds lovingly through
The dark of blank stares.
It snatches the best with no eyes
To follow,
All glazed for all are hollow.
It hums and the puppet begins
To flop, about, as toothpaste,
erupting from its casing
when an infant strangles
It's plastic flimsy neck.
Now frolik to the harmonious
Rejoice of numbness.
Now with grace,
Why, didn't you hear,
dignity has no meaning here.
It does not belong
It does not fit it.
It is weak, it is flimsy
Like the neck from which spurts
The child's careless
Numbing aim, which begins
The everlasting game.
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