verona

take me to verona,
in the heat of the summer sun.
sticky pseudo-europe
and the teenagers with their plastic cups.
bearded buskers
lending their continental sound-
but i am back here
facing my fear
and my throat that chokes
in the white, white rooms
and the clouds
of dust.
grab it
by the handle
and close the door.
the remainders of the years
gathered up my paper and charcoal
in the boy's toilets
"gay is just rong"
someone scrawled across
they sure told me...
and why are these doors locked?
found my brain had shrunk
at the art school.
fell to my knees in the dust
at the art school.
took to my feet
and started to run.

Reviews

[wolfshrew]

there is such a strong voice to your words, its something that is hard to do.

[Ed Hart]

what you do, you do so very well; and, i think, without trying...and that really pisses me off...