A murder of crows had a score to settle
The choice had to made
They heard what you had said
They heard your tone
And vowed we are not alone
Children of the Night, Children of the Sun
Our vengeance be done
Three-cuts-thirty
Violence plays dirty
Transgression is the obsession
The artist would say
that brings the words into play.
Yet they…
…knocked…
…kneaded…
…self-betrayed…
Question the sessions
Asking is there a different way
to discover the words to convey.
Testing out some new painting and production methods.
What role do I play in your life,
Husband or wife?
Am I determined by sex,
Or my effect?
Though I should not care,
I wonder if you would dare
to tell me
to reassure me
Why you love me.
Don’t answer too quick.
Please take your time to think.
In the meantime, I will continue my confusing ways
Awaiting what you will say.
When I asked for initiation,
I did not know the price to pay
You reached out and broke my hand
claiming sorry, it was the only way.
To discard what I could not hold.
To discard what I could not say.
Honestly, I thought you hated me
for taking everything I knew away.
Maybe you knew this and hesitated.
Still you struck.
Aware that without the loss, the pain,
I’d never choose redirection.
Thomas Typewriter 
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