The world is now temporarily mute

And it is peppered sufficiently with flares of blood

flesh and explosions

There are visions of cannibalistic emotions

And he is rocking

no, he is coaxing

The strength of youth is travelling downwards

and it is flowing in his toes

flexing

and retracting

It is the spring blossoming in his tender joints,

it is the taste of coke particles on a dying Summer afternoon

his lungs and loins are crying,

but he is not.

The world is still mute.