It was that child. that pushed the door violently and said out loud - I cannot breathe. No one noticed it, better not. she screamed to her feet, walk walk! they walked. She screamed to her body, be be! It flooded her. It was that child. crawling in the floor, eating the words – is too late to be. She touched her own sex searching for something that would listen to her. She abused it and still no answer – I cannot breathe.
It was that child, the child that flies around, humming the funeral chant. humming the chant that shouldn’t be listen to – I cannot breathe. Clocks ticking, life ticking and so many doors violently opened. So many doors closed by the sound of a goodbye.
She is grey, with fingers of a keyboard, mouth of a fly, legs of a spider.
She is the broken bottle, she is the vomit you throw away after a bad night.
It was that child I met tonight. She pushed the door violently and said out loud – I cannot breathe.
I embrace her with warmth, take her keyboard finger hands, and place them in my drum. The drum that beats the same sound of her colour. We talk silently. We feel soundly. We become the frames. We become the swim in the land of no oxygen. A place for mourning. A place where we are. Where we don’t have to be.
It was that child that no one wanted to meet, screaming out loud – I cannot breathe.
While in her sleep I dreamt of me. Gluing her mouth, sellotaping her scream. Slashing her brutally. She looked up and laughed – You forgot my eyes. I pushed her away and tore her eyes apart with my hands. She moved and her body kept on laughing – This breath of mine is now yours. We stopped breathing. There was no breath. A dream of no breathes. Now we can sleep and stop pushing doors violently. Now we can chant. The funeral chant.
The funeral chant
knocks
The funeral chant
sings
Oh what sorrows
Oh what pleasantries
The funeral chant
knocks
The funeral chant
sings
Oh goodbye
Oh thank you
We tried
We tried
We tried
Oh what words
Oh what a dream
The funeral chant
knocks
The funeral chant
sings
The chant that we don’t want to listen to
The chant that hums shadows
The chant that doesn’t breathe
We tried
We tried
We tried
This is the valse of the clothes on a rope
