A cold and meaty sky perceived through a window <br />Is meaningless. <br />Inside the pretentious glow of light and love invade <br />An otherwise humorless room. <br />And we, the disconnected, sit with backs to each other, <br />Escaping the expected dialogue of friends. <br /> <br />Leaves like rattle snakes trodden on by an innocent foot <br />Flutter angrily, connected by their umbilical chords <br />To the wrinkled bark of their mother, who, old and tired <br />Sits and waits for her demise. <br />And we, the uninvited, stand beneath her limbs, <br />Expecting her to break us somehow. <br /> <br />A misguided comment from someone outside <br />wanders in to sit unwelcome by its master. <br />And like smoke on a clear calm day, <br />It lingers a little too long for comfort. <br />And we, the unexpected, spread like a bad rash, <br />Until we are everywhere. <br /> <br />The air is a violent scent of something too difficult <br />To name or to describe. <br />And every sound heard is an abomination, <br />The fingernails of malice on a board of incomprehension. <br />And we, the poisonous, transcend every boundary, <br />Until the world is full of our virus.<br /><br />Mathew Lewis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-we/
