WEIGHT

My arms are so huge - they don't look that long -

but were they detached - I could use them to

stir a wicked witch brew!!!

My hands are below me & stroking the keyboard

with blood engorged veins, just ripe for the picking,

the scraping, & bleeding.

But this harvest will we all starve.

I'm sitting here before my deskless computer -

"Indian Style" - is this how they sit in India? Don't

we sit like this here? Whatever...

In my writing I am truly honest -

& yet I'm truly not myself -

does that make sense?

Too late now for Riddles.

The weight of the world...

The waiting never stops...

And this writing is just an excuse to scream

beneath the weight of our silence.