Silence. 

The noose hasn’t slackened –

Anaconda on my neck

And Wuthering Heights plays on –

You don’t hear the noise.

I know

that now.

The crack of shells deafens –

The ticking clock continually threatens

And words soft spoken linger –

I know

that now

You won’t hear the noise.

Unless you make it.

A soap opera becomes light entertainment –

The main evening news a measure –

A pleasure park chime

I know the noise –

A thesaurus for your rhetoric.

Knowledge to internally blacken over.

The microwave pings, mind the hotspots.

Mind the hosts cost…

Mind the hearts loss.

There’s life in silence.

For a while.

Blood ties.