My relationship with the act of screaming:

Artificial light and air conditioning
Gloomy sexual 1980s gigs I’ll picture
But never be inside of.
SCREAMING for people in the
Front room to stop shouting,
I always had nightmares about
The same painting we used to have
Up
Just above the fake fireplace, the
Plastic logs that had lightbulbs
Underneath.
I don’t know when that painting
Got taken down
It was a shadow of a man
Carrying something from a farmhouse
Caught fire.
Times I’ve SCREAMED, rare but fun.
With friends, in front of strangers,
Mainly inside buildings, specific
Rooms, downstairs when I used to
Drink and tape record that stuff,
Creative purposes, making a point,
Flesh can SCREAM too, I’ve never
Held onto people for as long as
I’d like to. I’ve felt some of them
Inside out, until it felt like we both
Disappeared.