Cues in red

Fling my body
Against a wall
And let it
Drop dead
The wretchedness, the memory
In cues of red
Like a mosquito-patch
left after hit
on the wall.
The many walls,
Blank spaces,
Waiting to be filled,
Hoping, waiting,
Thoughts yearning
To become, spoken.
Still waiting in
Void darkness
Hiding at margins
Lingering vain,
Only materialize
When flung
At walls,
Leaving cues,
Cues in red.