"Self-Portrait Without..." Poem by Luke Hobbs

between us there is only one,
with something to offer,
one who takes,
one who requests nothing,
one who never stops to ask,
there can be no compromise,
the moment for sharing,
has passed beyond recalling,
these words are the remnant,
of a scourged truth,
your vocabulary is thick wool,
too thin to pull over this eye,
your fabrications are a yarn,
many have been fleeced thereby,

irrelevant, a label bestowed,
which will be returned,
epitaph for the last,
stone which marks you,
in time, walk across your grave,
flatter yourself that I would fall,
to share your company again,

this world of belligerent petitioners,
stalks the jury box,
who could help you hear,
a whisper above legion screams,
repetition is ignorance,
for those who can choose,
nothing else,
mandate a common denominator,
purebred vulgarity the lowest form,
listening is overrated,
no room for the still,
small voice,
ears are ugly,
which is to say obsolete,
what will it be professor?
another lecture on the archaic,
uses of the aural cavity,
or to take up scalpels,
and by removing the instruments,
banish incessant reminders,
paint a portrait of consensus,
canvas, this worthless appendage