An Unnameable Feeling In Two Parts

I. Your ears, your eyes Impact My hands and the door knob Still intact No lightning Just trying To be or not to be Frightening I ask Please don't worry It’s writing And nothing more II. Mine More more Burned into my throat A door That bites back At language In anguish And eons toward tomorrow When knobs have already Rusted And no one is left To be trusted I am or I'm not I'm frightened And I think that you should be too