Autophony

I want to say sorry to you. I could say in lots of lovely flower-bedecked words. That is my one gift from God. But will it unspeak, undo the words I said? Ugly, unthinking words - the abuse of my sacred gift? What will the sorry do? It may hide, It will not heal. The scar will not go away. I can say stupid things in defence. I can say I bear things said to me with a grin and not resent. So should you. Foolish things to say. I can say silly things that make me pretend that I have escaped from the web of guilt that I have spun for myself. Only to say something more imbecile and fall into my own trap. Even these words will only weave that web even more. I can give you some more fancy words that mean nothing. Just lots and lots of words. One more poem, a little balm to pretend all is well. But they are all I have. But I cannot let go of you. That I will never do.

I think I am a Nazi. I killed a hundred flies today. I froze them on ice, lined them up one by one, and beheaded them; with a new, half-divided blade. I needed those heads: to isolate protein to do an experiment. The Endlösung to publish a paper. And that would bring me - fame, glory, eternity. I say that it is only my duty for the advancement of science. The Schutz-Stafel guard also said that at the doors of Mengele's laboratories. I think I am a Nazi. I kill because I do not like. mosquitoes, cockroaches, ants. Disgusting vermin I call them like the Aryan called the Semite. I swat them, crush them under my foot until blood, limbs, heads, hearts are all indistinguishable organum. I spray them with pyrethrin with glee, maybe even aplomb just like a Sturmbannführer putting down the Warsaw uprising. They come into my house, (built upon theirs). why should I tolerate that? I think we are all Nazis. The wise ones say that an area the size of Belgium is chainsawed every day in the Ama...