Unpainted? Tainted.

Pretty white wall, stained with life- empty and white.
Aren’t you lonely there all by yourself?
how do you feel when I pound you? I never cared to ask.

What’s it like to be crucified and hung? how does
it feel to be covered and never acknowledged?
Sticky wallpaper all over your face. a covered mask
then ripped off and pained with makeup and plaster
covering the holes I made. Bruised white wall
you aren’t so white anymore.

Pretty white wall lined with my grandfather’s face- essence and all.
eyes once alive, boxed in a wooden frame, left with nothing but
emotional splinters.

I sometimes ask myself. How would I like a visual
memory noosed around my neck? I wonder the weight.
How heavy is it you battered white wall
holding up that damn mariner’s lucky bird?
I walk around with my pops around my neck.
and Jesus around my neck. and a cross on my wrist. heavy with
religion- again white wall- feel special. the saints are on you.

protecting you. from me.