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king kong NINJA
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pacing down a hallway,
eyeing in the distance a stair
you run into a familiar room,
and find that no one familiar is there.
you open your eyes,
you fix your ears,
who's to tell you what to see,
who's to tell you what to hear?
the loudest, the longest, the loathed,
the sweet?
the tears, the cheers, the pitter of feet?
in hallways, along the winding heirs of desired distances, compartimentalization, furtherance from parts of oneself, not a siding with your own motives over others, but a standard that rides shotgun, a voice that grants upon each chosen quandry the gentle advice once brainwashed upon us, now chosen. can skepticism ever be said to have brainwashed a person when it presupposes you question it as well?
ah back to the hallways. always, room to procede a room, room for dellineations of a connection.
rooms for reasons. indecisions,
brief peaks into the lights and shadows of rooms not yet entered.
rooms where tragedys build slowly,
so they may storm in through their thrown open doors. doors like thrown storms.
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030415
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