Shunt by eyes and ears of others.

Silence ostracizes and leaves scars with its sharp claws Attempts are made to castrate words after the ejaculation, too late.
Too late to squelch the last drops of semen, it drips ever so slowly and the minds are still impregnated by the marks left behind, on paper. Surrounded by the isolation of shadows cast on the floor.
The light still shines and the pen lives one. A momentary distraction by the nymph's exposed breast brings a touch to recover. There are some obturators, who would like to crush and obliterate the waves that bring inspiration back to the shore.

From "The Winter Of Autumn"