Slowly
From Passion https://amzn.to/31vF6xL
Silence kills, yes.
Slowly, me.
My own self-mockery comes
Not in the form of laughter,
But something more
Frightening, Dangerous.
It screams, and it spits
Acid...
Fire...
Knives.
Silently I waited
to be noticed.
Silently I yearned
for the affections
Of someone, anyone;
Especially myself, but
Not for me. Not today.
Silently I screamed,
And only Silence returned my call.
The more it filled me
the more empty I was.
The more it consumed me
the more I died.
The more it stuck me
the more I bled.
The voices in the Silence -
They wait for me and,
Yes, they laugh.
The violent kind of laugh they put in
horror shows;
Demented and depraved.
It spits, and burns, and cuts -
Unintelligible
curses and snarls.
It comes out through my physical body:
It sweats out through my pores;
It whispers
through each caress
And moans through each fuck;
It forces itself through my voice,
Changing the visions of my eyes;
It cuts my skin;
It grinds my teeth,
It hurts my head.
It threatens to kill me
when all seems lost
And doesn't it so often seem
all
lost.
Fuck the Silence,
And the fucking Noise.
It spits acid, fire, knives.
The Silence
is a pit from which
I claw myself out.
Slowly, me.
About the Creator
Tracey Lapham White
Born in Barrie, Ontario. Son Jamie, full of insight, creativity, and beauty. Tracey enjoys reading, Netflix, cleaning the house, making it messy again, good food, laughter, and education.
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