Random Acts of Violence

There existed once, between impassioned
and stinging, hurtful dialects,
a common and effortless vocabulary.

The pitch and volume of this script
were never fully on cue or harmonic,
creating cacophony in its intense, blind chords.

Still though, the familiarity of the sounds
between sweet tongues maintained a bridge
of communality and forgiving patience.

This language kept getting bruised, poked, ripped,
vowels and verbs were often used as weapons,
and memory had to withstand the blows.

The saccharine cursive of a friendship
that once helped direct behaviors
eventually tarnished, turning putrid and boring.

Due process and many painstaking hours
led up to the most logical of moments, where
the novel lack of emotions permeated relief.

All the salt wasted and breaths held in
were finally accounted for, reasonably adding up
to an underwhelming totality of ambivalence.