Such need, such overwhelming
need posturing strength, but
revealing only bald-faced need,
screaming need, comfortable
only in front of the deafening
sound of a wildly cheering crowd,
comfortable only in front of
a television with his talking
face flashing back, making more
sounds. What does he do in the
silence, the inevitable, relent-
less silence that comes unaware?
Hide in his own mumbling gibber-
ish, the loud screams of his
dreams? Where did it go wrong,
little boy? Where did it begin,
when did the deprivation start,
— did the warm water turn cold
in the darkness even before you
were brutally thrust into life,
will it ever end or will you be
sucked back into the black hole?
Even in that cosmic silence
perhaps there will be an eerie
sucking sound in your ear to
give you comfort and keep you
company as you disappear.