I am thinking of a brick wall,
hiding danger within scandalous imagery.
Walls upon walls.
High, low, immoderately
scored with illusory murals,
scorch bled graffiti,
wicked symbols,
unclean, unpurified.
Trauma reverberates,
messes with circuitry,
irreverent irreconcilable
in cellular reproduction,
glitches and stammers
in data processing.
A wall. I am building,
brick by painful brick
cemented with blood and pus,
tall, thick, obscuring
day and night,
laughter and warm embrace,
secret words of consolation
hidden in humor and homilies.
Walls stand
ready for bombardment,
awaiting destiny of chaotic rubble
when history reaches
critical mass.