the walls are too thin, i can hear them three rooms away

a door opens

a woman speaks

a room fills up

whats all this yellow. what is the meaning of this

the man stands still, silent, in a corner chosen for him by the girl with lips

well etched into smile.


how kind is everyone! they say hello

they give you a piece of paper, and a pen

they tell you what to do with it

where to sit with it

what to write on it

how to think after you write on it

to raise you hand when you want to say what you wrote on it. your thoughts

to speak only if it is your raised hand that the woman with a yellow 

hair piece pointed at


do you have toilets, a young lady asks, there is a window, her bossom is so big she could be breast feeding – she isn’t,

Image I am a fucking stool


One Comment Add yours

  1. ganjaman says:

    Sit there stool,
    Hold on to the hoping,
    No one etches, the horror,
    On you and not the paper!

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