Raj Dronamraju

I shook your hand
I took the loss
Escape was impossible
I took the loss
...

If obnoxiousness is art consider this your exhibition gallery
Different stages of difficult behavior hang on the walls
"Don't touch" but some illiterate fool usually ends up doing just that
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The hand of friendship was offered
The hand of friendship was slapped away
The trajectory of the spurned
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We are the goldfish in the bowl
We are known as Mr. and Mrs. Goldfish
I don't mind this transparency, a benign surveillance
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Have you ever heard Saturday morning radio?
Is the radio programming different on Saturday morning compared to weekdays?

She dreads small talk and making his lunch
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She is the queen of the replacements
Her people await further orders in a large open-air building
A former factory - old and gray and damp, it looks like the 1950's
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Love sighted through an opening in deep forest
A blur that moves quickly and vanishes
But leaves a lasting impression
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My father in law
Barely missed the last just war
But saw the severed heads of prisoners of war
The Japanese displayed them
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If only there'd been more time
I could have set myself up as the welcomed intruder
Instead of the type you call the police on
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Suppose they created and subsequently tended a garden
And that was where we could compare our manly stems to something as strong and broad as a flower
Or we could have continued to live inside a dead girl's house expecting no visitors to drop by
In either case, I'm no longer gambling on rolling with the randomness of events
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Shelley laughed
With puffy cheeks
And normal sized brain
And medium amounts of dysfunction
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They didn't get around to exorcising the dark corners, the hiding places
Wherein things that bite and sting make their home
An oversight or a deliberate failure
Their less than thorough cleaning leads to consequences
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I can't wait to leave this uncomfortable house
And go back to my own uncomfortable house

We subscribe to death in our uncomfortable house
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This is where they hiked in woods, slept in tents, and hunted deer
And this where we stomped on a cold beach to keep our feet warm
These are the posted warning signs we obeyed on a Northern California beach
"Dangerous surf, hazardous cliff, shark area"
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I've always wanted to begin your conversation with "I'm Free"
And refuse to imbibe whatever witches brew you are conjuring up
I'll print up 20 flyers with blanks where a girl's name should be
"Dear ____ I've waited my whole life"
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What kind of life experiences must the subject have had for what he knows of his fellow creatures to be that much more
To contain that much more insight
Long nights slaving over an all-encompassing fiction that will provide for your needs and your fears equally
Drafting a vehicle, a god/man hybrid, who can hold all your bad choices, your negative character flaws
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The room was filled with people I didn't recognize
Which led me not to recognize myself
As capable as I was, I made stillness an art form
Plotted the design of when to let go as if the action was theoretical only
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The drug of the peasant is that which makes them happy without any clear reason for them to be that way
Puts him into such a mood that he can swallow the muck and embrace the toil with a smile on his face

And when he runs out of that drug, he'll punch a hole in the wall and a hole in the wife
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Moon tired
Moon frozen
I can't sleep and hold rambling late night conversations with the moon
Our ability to be cogent affected by fatigue
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Carol voiced out that air is not important
And made an argument for art as sustenance
And mind as stomach, mind as air
She argued that mental suffocation leads to wars, prejudice, fanaticism
...