Sinaloa Night Noise
listen. beads of sweat glisten on the brow, before the
bow, of the speaker under great lights. one white in the
applause does indeed pause to njoy what i so desparately
want to destroy. i want those hands to stop before
contact brings joy to the specific ears of their prolific
boy. those ears that filter cries of the abused into
unused folders of night noise. well beyond the folding
chairs holding stares of idle admiration tands the army
of an unheard nation. they don't applaud. i don't
applaud. no cheers from my peers for the speaker who is
showing that we are weaker and weaker and without the
power to create doubt in the masses of the power of the
speaker who has garnered the cheers of the masses and the
fears of my peers. of america the government i am not a
resident, yet i do live in the land and stand with the
people. the speaker is the president, speaking and not
listening. sweat glistening, espcaping pores. the night
noise is getting too loud to ignore. the night noise is
getting too loud to ignore. power don't listen, but
through filters hear so yell and yell loud, enough to
hurt their ears.
