Childish Babble

By Jordan Crallé

Jordan Crallé is a senior majoring in English and minoring in Biology and Studio Art. Jordan hopes to pursue Art and Conservation in the future.  

I’m not sure what compels me to write. Other than the fact I am terrified of powerlessness

Of muteness

Of lack of speech

I was abused horribly as a child by all the world around me

The horror upon Earth is abuse enough

We created it

And I could never have

But I have witnessed

And it makes me scared to think without concreteness to the validity of power likened to a broken mouth

broken keyboard 

Crawling, something, too softly under my skin to notice

The difference between snake and kin

It slithers around me

Frilly and sweet

Savory as a peach and translucent as a bees’ wings

It flutters in my stomach like cherry tomatoes fresh off the vine

I die I die I die

Friend or Foe? Will you make me stay or go?

I die I die

Feel pity for me

Underneath a rotting windowsill

The sun has always stood o ways away

Telling me to cry and let you know

That I love you still

Despite fear, and tears, and right, and

I die  

        colors unknown, and dogs who bite and birds going mute

In the death of night

We cried with cheery force. Alack, Alack, Alack I am dead 

Sunder Sundry O Saunter

My way to the last stop

The blood of thine altar

It compels me, not to talk

But to go

But a bump

In the death of night

Quietly Quietly Quietly

Into the dead of day

I walk I will myself awake

It’s time to wake up, We cannot be late, Day Break Me Down Under. “Happy Birthday”