Sa[l]vage[d] Poetry 1

Pain (Cluttered)

PAIN (Cluttered)

These were the windows

    The windows with doors

each one, every one

       a different landscape

Landscapes and dreams

    I can close my eyes

But they are there

       I know because it is my room

in my house

    in my pain

Pain like shuddering and differential

Music from unmathematical and

Uninspired, and worse, depressing

Musicians.  Depressing in all

Senses, and to all senses.

And loud, very very loud,

Bone crashing, bleeding, aluminum

Toothed, broken record scratching

Against a cluttered blackboard

Cluttered with words and meanings

and the meanings hold no meaning

and they only point back to the

pain.

Pain because I cannot use these

    Windows

Pain because I cannot use these

    Doors

Pain because I had to stop everything

    even thought

        because I needed

    Sleep.

~r wesley edwards