Spend our days fapping about
emotions strung out
like damp clothes on a line
high above wet street levels
our words palimpsests
disseminated to the public
secrets released from their prisons
but still under surveillance
always afraid of ever stretched tongues
ice on the roads blocked
off by traffic cones
they always find themselves outside
pensive clubs downtown
families walking around lost
and shellshocked, not knowing
to give praise aloud or by biting their tongues
off at their ends to keep
from soiling the silence
all the while somehow relearning
how to trust noises from others
