Some One Has to Say It.

I have not a choice,
for this silence lacks a hole,
and it has to be burned,
with the tip of my burning cigarette.

Silences come with perforations,
there is really no such thing as,
complete silence,
there has got to be a hole there.

And I am going to burn it,
however ugly, however profane,
It has to be done.

One has to say things,
pierce the calm surface,
come down upon the ears,
of this tidy silence.

Forgive my vitriol,
for it’s flow is choiceless,
it is not my mistake,
it is just the way thing are.

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