Silence is the slithered killer.
To do nothing a repudiation
A slap resounding hollow against the tear-streaked cheeks.

Shed the skin of waiting.
Pull the pale pall of dead emotions from yor mannequin limbs.
Do something
Do anything
To move these arthritic bones
That crack in white silence.

Suspend the monotone of blankness.

I want red rage, or love, damn it,
Awash in rhythm humming breathing moving
Moving forward with bright spokes
Streaming spinning circling
Sweating with breathless anticipation.

I want earthquakes beneath my feet.
I want choruses in my blue sky.
I want the chill in my back & thighs
That moves my feet to the dance.

Do something
To push the wheels down the dark hills
To their glory
Or their brilliant doom.
 

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