"Hot Air" by Nate Maxson
If language is defined by the wounded
And exists separate from its substance
Within the wound itself
Then why is it
The older I get the more I want to either scream or sing
The way I used to do it
Involuntarily
But can’t anymore?
The answer has to do with negative space
A song with the wrong lyrics
Some old hymnal or folk song from the 1970s
The storms of June shall now pass on
Or something like that
It takes a lot to admit
When I need a medical professional
Or a butcher with a religious background
And kindly eyes,
To open me up
And diagnose the hole where the world used to breath
Through me
The pale sky
And the wind
The pale sky
And the water
Doctor it burns when I cry
This time
I am swallowing
My pride
Like I really mean it