To the thick mosaic of words massaging the wall,
to the film of chalk dust on the ends of my fingers,
to the insulated thoughts swirling around in my head,
to the smeared slate penetrating sweat beads on my temples,
to the questioning looks from the tight-ass in the corner...
I put my fingers to the black.
I pull down,
searing decibels,
rattling windows,
and a big "Thank you for nothing."
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