Neighbour

5 in the morning, Why do you keep at it? Howl- ing and wail-ing, the wall cries out in fear as you press your weight into it. Heavy, heaved breaths as it pulls inwards, afraid for its cracked fate. I sit and stare, a loaded gun inside the room. Should I? Why do I bother. My door is kicked in and he stood there, a picture of red, red vengeance. El Diablo-- is this a dream? He is chest-bare, nothing to hide his eyes’ hate. I hear his heart wind up-- inside, Memory tastes his pulse. The wall creaks and is curious, rises pridefully and cowers all at once. There are no words to baptize hatred, not the child I saw beneath his skin. It crawled, like a worm, slithered out his heart and up up up into me, the croaking wall a silent witness to all. I sit and stare and sin(g) a thousand stars' choir of rage.