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Screams from the window

I'm bent,
too bent to walk,
i'm spent,
i tell you,
too spent to move,
even from my window to the chair or bed.
Look at the street,
where am i?
Children playing,
as dogs do,
chasing cats and fighting for themselves.
I'll let them,
they can kill each other,
i can't care,
i'm not allowed to care.

This window jams up in the summer,
the wood swells,
and it can't open.
Cut it,
the skin,
flesh on the glass,
blood whitewashing the frames,
"what do you want?"
I can hear them,
up there,
ticking,
click click click,
who are they?
I'd kill them,
let them fall,
hold them down,
throw them out.
But not today,
not while the children are down there,
barking at me,
i spit on them,
down and on their haircuts,
spit blood,
red and raw,
with veins.

Laughter,
i can hear it,
and crying,
and sighing,
and moaning.
You pigs,
fucking in he morning,
with your window open for the children to see,
screaming so i can hear,
i feel excited,
but i don't do anything,
just stare into the mirror,
and become my father,
hollow and loud,
"Shut your mouth!",
but it is shut,
so hard that blood is real,
extended bone,
sharp and decayed,
tearing at lips.
"This is not a kiss,
why don't you kiss me like the other men,
instead of a dog?
I can feel you,
i'm sick."
Who is she anyway?
her voice in my head,
just so i can scream at her today.

He's a liar,
i hear him lying,
on his back,
sucking in the air,
sweating,
wet,
shining in the spent moonlight,
buying her birthday kisses,
buying his received love from her,
with meat and veins,
showing her his pain,
making her forget mine.

I dreamed last night,
the ceiling,
or floor for them,
splinted and cracked,
fell through,
with legs and arms,
naked and filthy,
into my bed,
crushing me.
"Get out!
I'm sweating,
your on me,
blocking my little holes,
for breathing and dying."
They moved for their sake,
twitching,
like an eye,
shaking with every slight fight,
she would not stop.
I held her face,
and pushed,
squeezed her eyes to mush,
i felt her breast on my leg.

I awoke,
only to hear the lost bird crying for its lover,
and the stray cat breaking its own spine.

Poetry by Will Hamilton
Read 677 times
Written on 2005-07-13 at 22:19