Ode to fury

shatter, things fall apart. the hand held high in the inherited skyline. sign of fury, the eyes going out of their sockets. the bare feet running, the contracted chest as if the whole body is pushing against the heart. against the simplicity of God’s gesture like two forefingers kissing, and hissing the push came and the steps taken backwards with the back against the bottomless pit. the other hand hiding the shame of the pubis. gods are always a step ahead, they already have sheets covering the shame.

but the back of the other kid is too stiff, he can no longer reach the hand held high. it might be the blue suit he is wearing, or the tie, the uncomfortable and unfortunate costume of rules and ethics. while the other is falling from discomfort. it means that the decisions have been taken. prior the prior priorities, when the things were not yet divided. why do the two boys stand face to face, I ask. in the flow of evolution men have to be heading for the same direction.

falling apart means losing the innate sense of direction.

the other boy looks at the sky and sees the stiffness of the unfortunate costume. but the smile is much too powerful for the inherited skyline.

why not, I ask. and he says because they need to have their life. what about mine. whataboutmine. whataboutmine. and while falling I become a body of blur.


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