staccato

staccato

his words rush out of his mouth
flying so fast, he can barely catch his breath

hurt words, anger
pent up rage, tales of the hood
told so fast that breath eludes him
eyes well up, for lack of oxygen

he has to get it all out, before the hurt sinks in

she spits
and the blood rushes to her head
dizzying her
making her giddy and high

syllable colliding with syllable
the rhythm rushing her
forcing out reason, logic

washing her in a warm bath of emotion
raw
creating an ethereal connection with the audience

doused overwhelmingly with thought
showered with ideas
the words of a poet, so wildly staccato

each
thought
hitting
home
so
hard
it
ricochets
silently
through
the
room

and then it's over

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