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Tressa Stephens

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North Syracuse, NY, US

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The pause

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The pause

by

Tressa Stephens

Hast thou hand been paralyzed, maimed or missing?
Frightened are you, to cross this moment into the
Next when your world is flat and you feel as if you
May parish by the unknown, your soul lay bleeding
On the floor

Crampy, dissatisfied, generally bitter and prone to the
Whole world, you await your fate

Stupefied by a faithless heart, you stop and begin to
Rot, knowing you need to move forward, the
Vultures circle overhead, waiting to feast on your
Sorry worthless ass and pluck out your eyes, which see
Only despair and a gray cold world, littered with
Confusing evil images and hideously wicked things

You took your shots, rude remarks, low blows and
Demoralizing gestures

You drank them, swallowed and digested every
Disgusting vile bit

Vomit, no not you, your better than that, poisonous,
Putrid bad things are your building blocks

Your brain built rock solid of suffocating, fortified walls,
Oh if these neurons could talk, oozing memories spring forth,
Yes once in awhile the ceiling does leak, hurry grab a bucket
Before they recede into the Berber to be forgotten forever

Snap, honk, "hey lady, what the frig is the matter with you?"
And then another, the light turns green,
You move ahead, saving yourself, mercifully,
Vultures retreat
Air returns