i feel a pulse beneath this pain
repressed and black like the night breeding it...![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6qfyXZy9oCdF-amEWe06aJ4ph0YvVK8sakhZ8xq6zzIvxmivaqTpdKqpdAXf7w6PgIZZhvVqfbxd56051nB7QqWECQwHvcVZw7XPNLOBZcZQivKEU32onZCrBOCWfnVpFrs1FxUd0Mo/s200/Isolation_is_not_good_for_me_by_artisticked.jpg)
an uneasy intercourse of desire and reason
echoing madly beneath a guise of quiet assurity.
i fear, like the faithful logician,
being pinned on my back…
unexplained, bested, stripped of meaning;
terrified my dreams may seep through
pores of flesh…
i grind my teeth…
the words turn in on themselves and
confuse understanding.
i wait for darkness to define tomorrow’s promise
of integration…
for the days prove porcelain,
delicate china rooms and mirrored corridors
connecting closets of confusion…
i avoid myself in passing through transparency…
even though i wish to pace deliberately,
i crawl from corner to corner,
afraid to be judged in definite postures,
prematurely circumscribed…
i cannot avoid that person whose reflection
startles me…
i talk to wall-board images standing within my
reticent shadow…
they ask no questions.
there is only fear inside these rooms…
in the night i tie my fingers with
strands of my hair, waiting,
suspended between pockets in the vacuum…
when the glare of light precedes the roar of dawn,
i am huddled in the corner,
defenseless against the pallid white backdrop,
watching the air rush from the room…
repressed and black like the night breeding it...
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN6qfyXZy9oCdF-amEWe06aJ4ph0YvVK8sakhZ8xq6zzIvxmivaqTpdKqpdAXf7w6PgIZZhvVqfbxd56051nB7QqWECQwHvcVZw7XPNLOBZcZQivKEU32onZCrBOCWfnVpFrs1FxUd0Mo/s200/Isolation_is_not_good_for_me_by_artisticked.jpg)
an uneasy intercourse of desire and reason
echoing madly beneath a guise of quiet assurity.
i fear, like the faithful logician,
being pinned on my back…
unexplained, bested, stripped of meaning;
terrified my dreams may seep through
pores of flesh…
i grind my teeth…
the words turn in on themselves and
confuse understanding.
i wait for darkness to define tomorrow’s promise
of integration…
for the days prove porcelain,
delicate china rooms and mirrored corridors
connecting closets of confusion…
i avoid myself in passing through transparency…
even though i wish to pace deliberately,
i crawl from corner to corner,
afraid to be judged in definite postures,
prematurely circumscribed…
i cannot avoid that person whose reflection
startles me…
i talk to wall-board images standing within my
reticent shadow…
they ask no questions.
there is only fear inside these rooms…
in the night i tie my fingers with
strands of my hair, waiting,
suspended between pockets in the vacuum…
when the glare of light precedes the roar of dawn,
i am huddled in the corner,
defenseless against the pallid white backdrop,
watching the air rush from the room…
interpretation...soliloquies
ja allen
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