Untitled

Maybe
The silence
Of no applause
For the subway singer
Speaks louder than feigned
Appreciation, than fetishized fawning:
The standing ovation of the deaf sheep herd.
Maybe true feeling is only met with silence, the silence
Of no return to the question of why the silence brings a silent feeling.
Like when the inner flame of thought is quelled by the outer frame of discursive judgment; the embarrassing lisp of the inner infinite first feeling; the apologetic laugh, crafted to avert the penetration of an eye; coital fumbling blocked by the self-preservation of an unknown inner kingdom.

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