RP1: Symphonia

One wrong word and I’m done

Two is all it takes to turn against me

Three minutes of fighting back leads to

Four hands tearing me down

Five hands holding me down

Six hands patting each other on the back: job well done.

Six foreign fingers per day feeling my hair

One gasp of awe and excitement

Five unoriginal questions in

Two long and unwanted strokes

Four nods: yes, yes, yes, yes it is long; I don’t know, how long do you shower?

Three smiles: It’s always been long, I don’t know when I’ll cut it, no I’m not like Pocahontas

Three families at a time, at least

Six places to call home

Four people to call my own

One person to whom I owe everything

Two fathers to whom I owe nothing

Five Johns who don’t remember me

Five stubby fingers on each hand

Three eyes:

Two sit on my face absorbing the world

(Six blinks a minute—don’t miss a thing)

One eye faces inward, judging, fighting, colliding the

Four “I’s” intertwining, jousting on the inside of my body

Four-ty-nine thousand dollars a year for

Five days a week of putting on masks and only
One face is seen by the world

Three-piece suits are the ultimate goal

Six feet under is the ultimate end

Two-way street: look both ways before crossing

Two nights ago I had a dream: a

Four-limbed creature sat in my living room, insides made of

Six-thousand worms

Five-hundred-thousand different memories in each

Three eyes facing everywhere, reflecting the world

One body made up of thousands of worms, beckoning me to sit on the couch

Two strikes and I’m out. High five for changing the rules!

Four cackling hyenas: three laughing at who I am, multiplying in my skull, resonating

Six echoes, fortissimo; one voice is mine, a broken instrument hidden beneath the cacophony