a semi-important babble

A Poem by redhors

My attempt at a Steinian style work for creative writing class.

Listening to a conversation when you’re not in it, the voices aren’t attached to bodies so is it really happening? They go up and down, up and down in tone but the sound doesn’t go anywhere except in the box room. The walls absorb the energy waves.

I think about how it is to be a dog and not being able to join in with human words of my own in a human conversation. That must feel so helpless listening and understanding but never being able to interject with opinions or thoughts of your own. A silent slave, the color of your collar you can’t even decide what you are going to wear that day. Or for your life, because who changes a dogs collar every day?

So many facets of life it’s like a ruby, with a being inside and light reflecting off of it like red drops of sun. It’s a chasm of complexities, a matrix that we will probably never understand. It smells of roses and blood, of seawater and decaying trees. I can taste the dirt, I can taste the mud that comes from dirt and the many layers of effort it’s taken to even create the smallest piece of dirt and mud. So much time and thought is put into just the smallest things and these are the things that we take for granted but won’t have forever if we do not value their importance and how they play into our life puzzle, but why do we even care, we are too far gone, no one is going to save us, we are only going to destroy ourselves.