cruelty. don’t talk to me about cruelty
or what i am capable of.
when i wanted the roaches dead i wanted them dead
and i killed them. i took a broom to their country
and smashed and sliced without warning
without stopping and i smiled all the time i was doing it.
it was a holocaust of roaches, bodies,
parts of bodies, red all over the ground.
i didn’t ask their names.
they had no names worth knowing.
now i watch myself whenever i enter a room.
i never know what i might do.
What makes the concision so brilliant is its double-edge. The gulping conclusion. Violence is part of our everyday experience. This is the basis of real conscience: I know what I'm capable of. So "now I watch myself whenever I enter a room." It's both funny and devastating in its humility.
Currently playing:"My Wife's Home Town," Bob Dylan
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