hole theory

the discontent i usually feel i've attributed to my inability to walk upright and the disease that often haunts my joints- which is to say it's inherited- which is to say most bad things are.

which is to say i don't know much about being but i do know about not being and the negative space often found around the hole inside a wall- 

which is to say everything's easily defined by its negatives- 

which is to say i've inherited my father's anger and my mother's anxiousness- 

which is to then ask, who will ever love a hole? the carpenter longs to fix it with a hammer, and the painter covers it with carvings, and the architect designs his way around it

and is the hole still there even when no one can look at it? and what does that say about a lover who can barely stand to acknowledge it?

tell me, do we simply hide? or do we stare at each other until there's nothing left but the holes?