Heartstrings All A Mess In Knots Poem by ed purchla

Fingers start to tap the keys
Hours into the early morning
And this darkness that shows its face
When the summer sun glows for
Everyone
Comes smashing down and around
Rattling against the walls
Slashing such
Wretched truth;
Something already found in
Overwhelming,
Overly unnecessary
Self-awareness.
The hilarity of it all,
That to bear the stirrings she brings,
The caring, the real
Awakening,
This tap-dancing-typist
Must be chained, shackled,
Muted, muzzled,
Crammed away in
A corner, a dungeon,
Since opening one's mouth in such a
State,
Might very well open the
Floodgates,
Drown out all leftover sanity,
All niceties, all happy moments,
All closeness and
Compassion,
To simply replace it with
Something deemed
"Normal, "
Something deemed
"Natural, "
And something
With condemning fingers pointed;
Deemed,
Sad.